Let the Music Play - 28. Reunions

The click of cameras surrounded them like a swarm of angry bees, much to Eric’s dismay, but this was business; their vacation was over. Single file, with the occasional wave to a fan, the members of Instinct strode through the lobby of their new hotel, the Intercontinental in Perth, on their way to a set of suites on the top floor.

Once in the elevator, accompanied by the hotel’s manager, the four guys rode to the top floor and waited while Helen and Günter followed in the next elevator. Barbra was no longer with them; business had forced her return to Los Angeles, and Helen missed her already, even though she’d been gone for only a few hours.

With everyone settled in and the luggage delivered, Chase complained about the layout. “We’ve each got a suite but there are no connecting doors.”

Eric shrugged. “It’s only for three nights and then we leave for Melbourne. The hallway is pretty private so just use the entry doors. I’m guessing you’ll be camped out in Brandon’s suite anyway.”

Shaking his head and chuckling, Chase replied. “Nope, we decided that mine has a better view. It looks out across the river, right at downtown Perth.”

Checking his watch, Eric said, “The Shadows should be getting here in about an hour, and Jerry is flying in. Damn it, we’ll never get that GPS back.”

“We’re doing concerts in Sydney and Brisbane, so maybe he’ll show up in the Land Rover there,” Jon speculated, hoping that it would prove true.

The conversation ceased as Helen came strolling into the room with her head held high and a laptop computer in her hand, beaming as she said, "Guys, I've got the rushes of your video shoot here, from the production company’s secure server. I think it’s going to make a great video for 'Lost to the World' on your next album."

Scowling as he remembered the humiliating video shoot, Jon replied, "We only wrote that a few weeks ago, while we were in Europe. We haven't even practiced it, let alone laid down any tracks. I still think that video shoot was tacky."

Popping the computer open on the coffee table, Helen said, "Just keep an open mind. You four as plane crash survivors, stranded on a deserted island, gathering logs and vines to make a raft, hunting, spear-fishing, making a fire. It's an adventure and survival theme, perfect for what reads to me like a pretty dark song."

Brandon, while not sharing all Jon's opinions on the video shoot, felt that Helen had left them all out of the loop on the decision-making process. In a gentle voice, he said, "If you'd talked it over with us first, we could have made a better video. We know the song a lot better than you do; we wrote it."

A little taken aback at the unexpected development of having both Jon and Brandon voicing negative opinions on the video, Helen chanced a glance at Chase. realizing that he would back Brandon no matter what, She moved her attention to Eric, who to her surprise weighed in with the most pragmatic view, "Why don't we see what's on the disk before we argue about it?"

Helen hit 'Play', and a scene appeared; the four guys, working to build a raft; gathering wood, hewing it into shape, lashing it together, looking a little grimy but determined.

Other scenes followed, and in spite of the total absence of sound, the message came across; fighting to survive, battling against the odds, down to nothing but clawing their way back, trying to save themselves. Many scenes were shot in digitally-lowered lighting, giving the clips a foreboding air. Always, there was the island; brooding and unfriendly, beautiful yet deadly, emphasized by sharp leaves and branches against bare skin, and artful fades between scenes that momentarily superimposed rocky, jagged spires over young and earnest faces.

By the end of the collection of video clips, which were still unedited save for the few fades and lighting adjustments, even Jon felt that the loincloths had been appropriate for the theme, though he had no intention of admitting it.

Chase broke the awkward silence. "I like it. It's hot without being cheesy, and it's dark so it fits the song really well. The theme seems to work. That final scene – launching the raft and having it break up, then the four of us watching it from the beach – that's really ominous after the rest. It's sort of like saying we're done for."

With his own reservations at least partially quelled, Jon interjected, "A lot of shots I remember didn't make it in. No swinging from vines like Tarzan, and that one scene against the flowering trees is gone, too.

Helen shook her head, "They chopped any flowers or bright colors, and the vines were mainly for building the raft. Look at the shots of you yanking a vine down from a tree; it's a close-up taken right before you did a swing. The director wanted real concentration when you looked up and pulled. However, most of the shots, like for any video, ended up on the cutting-room floor. What you just saw is about twelve minute's total, from hours of film. It will be edited and cut down still further to fit the song once that's recorded."

Nodding his head reluctantly – he still resented having to wear such a skimpy outfit – Jon asked, "On the level; did you pick the outfits just to make me squirm?"

With a chuckle, Helen replied, "No, hon, that wasn't even my idea. Making you squirm was merely a fringe benefit, which I enjoyed to the fullest."

Brandon still had one reservation, and said, "Don't get me wrong, I like how it turned out, but there's one stanza in the song that I think should have had a scene, and could have, if we'd have been involved in the planning. The stanza I'm thinking of is, 'Standing at the edge, looking out at a sullen sky, shattered dreams, all hope is gone, shot down in flames.' If the four of us had been standing on a rocky bluff, looking out at an empty sea and sky, a wide shot to show us alone and isolated, if would have fit, I think."

Conceding, because she knew he was right, Helen looked at the computer, angled her head, and then looked up with a wry smile. "You have a point. I should have involved you all more. I'll do so next time." Deciding to lighten the mood a little, and knowing Jon’s likely reaction, Helen added, "For this video, though, it's not too late. What you want could be done with a high-end handheld video camera. If you want, I'll get the videograpaher to fed-ex one, along with the loincloths, and we'll find a place to shoot it."

Shuddering at the thought of spending even more time almost naked and on camera, Jon said in a stage whisper, "Brandon, please shut up."

Sharing a laugh, the four members of Instinct sat back to watch as Helen played the video clips again.

* * * 

An hour later, alone in his suite, Eric answered a knock at the door, grinning and hollering, “Hey, great to see you guys!” as Steve and Wilde walked into his suite. The first thing Eric noticed was that Wilde was still chalk-white, a feature that was only emphasized with his long, jet-black hair. The second thing that Eric noticed was Steve’s body language; he no longer seemed as uptight and uneasy.

The two Shadows took seats on the couch, and Eric, sitting down across from them, wasted no time in asking, “So, what is going on with you two, and where’s Zeke?”

“Zeke stopped off at Jon’s suite. As for us, we’re doing fine,” Wilde said cryptically, knowing full well that Eric wouldn’t let him get away with the evasion. Steve began to fidget, taking a sudden, intense interest in the sofa’s armrest.

Trying to determine where to begin, Wilde fingered one of his earrings as he thought back. That night in Rome, when Eric had arranged for he and Steve to have their drunken talk, came rushing back as he recalled it in vivid detail....

* * *

Steve was pretty damn drunk, so Wilde steadied him and helped him onto the couch before taking a seat close by his side. Seizing the moment, and employing a little trickery, Wilde got right to the point. “Steve, I know why you get freaked out about me being bi. I know, okay?”

With his eyes somewhat unfocused, Steve looked in Wilde’s general direction before slurring, “What do you mean? I’m okay with that now. With you being, uh...”

“The word is ‘bi’, Steve, and there’s nothing wrong with it. If a guy is attracted to another guy sometimes; so what? There’s no need for self-hate.”

Sagging back into the sofa, Steve sighed before slurring his reply, “I don’t hate you. You’re my best friend; I could never hate you.”

Putting his plan into action though with more than a little trepidation and only because Eric had forced the issue, Wilde threw a friendly arm over Steve’s shoulders. “Dude, you’re so damn drunk you don’t remember; you already told me that you have feelings for guys sometimes but that you don’t like to admit it even to yourself. You were pretty drunk then too, but you said that was why you stressed whenever I was around gay or bi guys. Come on dude, I already know and it’s cool,” Wilde said, giving Steve’s trembling shoulder a reassuring pat.

Steve was silent for a few seconds, and Wilde, concerned, looked to his face for a clue. The clue was plain to see, but the expression was not the denial that Wilde had feared. Instead, it was a look of distress, accompanied by green-tinged skin, made all the more acute by Steve’s hand flying to his mouth as he tried to stagger to his feet.

At last reading the signs, Wilde leapt to his feet. “Whoa, come on, bathroom’s this way,” he said as he helped guide Steve in the frantic dash towards the porcelain god.

They made it almost in time, and Steve’s heaving stomach made a terrible, acrid-smelling mess all over the toilet. Glancing at the foul vomit, Wilde decided, then and there, never to eat noodles again. The sight of them hurling out of his mouth and even dribbling out of Steve’s nose, along with the rest of Steve’s dinner, was one Wilde would never forget, try though he might. He tried hard not to think of it, as he held onto his friend, supporting him and keeping him in place, while Steve spent the next fifteen minutes heaving and moaning.

Once Steve’s stomach had ceased its convulsions, Wilde eased his sweating, pallid friend into a sitting position a few feet away from the toilet. “How much did I tell you?” Steve asked, panting for breath and unable to look his friend in the eye.

With a shrug and a casual smile, Wilde replied, “You were jealous when you walked in on me when I was making out with that guy.”

Scrambling back to the toilet, Steve suffered through another round of the dry heaves. Finally, slumping back, he said in a hoarse, pained whisper, “I never wanted you to know. I can’t believe I told you, no matter how drunk I was, but I guess I did. It’s not something I like to admit, even to myself.” Wilde took careful note of Steve’s words, intending to get him to expand on them later.

Placing a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder, and ignoring the acidic stench of vomit, Wilde said, “It’s okay, Steve. I just wanted you to know that I knew. I also think it’s something we need to talk about sober.”

“Sober sounds good,” Steve replied, staggering drunkenly to his feet, “Maybe I won’t throw up as much if I’m not drunk.”

Wilde returned to the main room while Steve struggled to clean himself up. After scrounging in the closet for some clean clothes, Wilde placed them inside the bathroom door before pouring himself another drink. He was surprised when Steve emerged from the bathroom, still staggering, took the drink from his hand, and chugging it down for himself before mumbling, “I needed that. Thanks Wilde.”

Steve stumbled towards the king sized bed at the far end of the room, collapsing into it, coming to rest face down, already out cold.

Wilde covered him with a blanket and turned to leave, but he paused on his way to the door as he thought of one sure way to broach the subject with Steve the following morning. Pulling off his shirt, he settled into bed next to Steve, falling asleep within minutes with his arm around his friend.

* * *

Laughing out loud, Wilde’s mirth at the memory of the following morning brought him back to the present. Looking at Eric’s inquisitive expression, and glancing to his side to see Steve’s deepening blush, no doubt in anticipation of what he knew would soon be said. Wilde gave Eric a recount of the events that night in Rome, ending with him falling asleep next to Steve.

“So what the fuck happened the next morning,” Eric demanded, trying not to laugh.

Wilde shrugged, looking at Steve as he said, “He didn’t remember anything after throwing up so I told him we’d had sex.”

His face a deepening shade of crimson, Steve said, “Yeah, he did and I freaked. I kind of remembered what we’d talked about so I believed him.”

Arching an eyebrow, Eric asked, “So, what happened?”

Wilde doubled over, laughing hysterically as Steve squirmed in embarrassment by his side. “He ran to the bathroom to throw up again. He’s so romantic,” Wilde said before clutching his side and cracking up completely, laughing so hard that his side began to ache.

Steve’s blush didn’t fade, and would have deepened were that possible. Repeatedly clenching his fists, Steve forced himself to say, “I kind of avoided Wilde for a few days after that. He did finally tell me that we didn’t have sex, but I was still freaked out that he knew. We had another talk a few days later. I admitted I’d thought less of him after catching him with a guy. I also admitted that seeing him like that had given me thoughts that I wasn’t prepared to handle. I finally ‘fessed up that he was right, and I did have... thoughts about him beyond friendship.”

“Took you long enough,” Eric said with a chuckle, “I think everyone knew before you did. So, are you two together now or what?”

Steve and Wilde shared a glance, before Steve answered for them both, “We kind of agreed to just stay friends, but to be friends... with benefits. We still date girls but when it comes to... guy stuff, it’s just us.” Steve took another glance in Wilde’s direction before adding, “What can I say? He’s a wild one.”

Leaning back in his seat, Eric scratched his bare chest as he said to Steve, “I hope this means that you won’t be so stressed out around Brandon and Chase? They don’t play around, so Wilde’s virtue, such as it is, is safe around them. Hell, he’s probably safer around them than around me and I’ve never done a guy.”

Nodding in agreement, Steve replied with a soft smile, “I trust him and I trust them. I’ll apologize and maybe we can all go rock-climbing again soon.”

Pointing at his ankle, Eric shook his head. “I’ll go with, but I was in a freaking cast for a month, so no way will I try climbing again. I’ve still got a limp, but it’s almost gone now. You can keep your cliffs, Steve; that’s your thing, not mine,” Eric said with a grimace, remembering his fall from the precipice. He then gave Steve a smile and to let him know there were no hard feelings he added, “I’d be happy to go, but I’ll be keeping my feet planted on the ground.

Wilde glanced out the window at the large dome less than a mile away. “I like it here; I wish more places had their concert venues co-located with the hotel. I’m looking forward to seeing Australia, although we won’t get much of a chance to do anything.”

Eric smiled, forcing himself to keep quiet and not spoil the surprise he, and his band mates, had cooked up for The Shadows.

The subject changed in an instant as the absent members of both groups came bounding through the door, exchanging greetings, and getting down to the business at hand; discussing the concert. The one piece of good news was that Helen had found them a place to rehearse, which they all felt they needed after their two-week break.

* * *

In Los Angeles, the morning sunlight, filtered to a reddish hue by the smog, fell against the hospital’s pitted and grimy walls. A doctor, glancing up at the brown layers of ozone, commented. “The smog is bad today, worse than normal, anyway.” Then he got to the point, “Phil, I’ve got a case for you. A young man was brought in after a failed suicide attempt. It was touch and go for a while due to some drug effects. He’s a heroin and meth addict. He had memory issues for a few hours, but he’s doing okay now in that regard. He won’t give us his name and I think he’s destitute. He’s had one hell of a scare, so I’m hoping you can work your magic and get him turned around, but that’s not something I can handle here, as you know. Do you have any beds open in your halfway house?”

Phil absently scuffed his worn shoe against a broken slab of sidewalk as he considered the situation. His rehab halfway house – a charity operation that ran on a shoestring budget taken largely from his pocket – was full, but perhaps there was a way. Reaching a decision, he said, “I have one guy who I hope will be leaving soon. I’ll take your patient and stick him in a cot for a few days. That’s better than putting him back on the street. “Horse,” he said, using one of the street names for Heroin, “can be a bitch to get over and most guys don’t stay the course long-term, but I’ll give it a shot. I was where he is once. Do you have him on methadone?”

The doctor nodded. “Yeah, you know the drill. He had the whole parade of withdrawal symptoms; dilated pupils, watery eyes, exhaustion, insomnia, tremors, panic attacks, no appetite, you name it. He didn’t come in with overdose symptoms; I think he was already in withdrawal and wanted a way out. I’ve got him on a low dose of methadone, which appears to be easing his symptoms. My best guess, from what he’s said, is that he hasn’t been a full-blown addict all that long, but he was a serious abuser of numerous drugs for quite a while. That might make the detox easier, and that’s about the only good news I can give you.”

With their decision made, both men strolled into the hospital, and Phil took the elevator up, intending to pay his first visit to their mystery patient.

* * *

In Perth Airport’s arrival lounge, The Scar checked to ensure that his toupee was properly in place, and shifted into his persona of ‘Jerry’. Taking a taxi to the docks, he began making phone calls, ensuring that the unloading and delivery of Instinct’s equipment went as smoothly as possible.

Waiting while the cargo cranes performed their task, the Scar passed the time by reflecting upon the irony of his situation. ‘Jerry Clump’ was an assumed persona, one very different from his own, and yet it was his real name, a situation forced by circumstance. Chuckling inwardly, and feeling more than a tinge of pride, he felt he’d achieved the pinnacle of acting; creating a flamboyant gay persona, which, he assured himself, was quite an accomplishment for a straight man.

The irony elicited a chuckle from The Scar, and he, as ‘Jerry’, waited during the loading of the fourteen cargo containers onto trucks for the short journey to the Burswood Dome, there to begin unloading for the following night’s concert.

Half an hour later, the convoy of fourteen eighteen-wheelers, one after the other, rumbled into the parking lot of Burswood Dome, as ‘Jerry’, directed them towards the unloading docks.

Once the unloading was underway, ’Jerry’ ignored the vast array of lighting equipment and the other settings for the stage, and instead surveyed every piece of the musical equipment, including the massive subwoofers and other speakers. The only problem that concerned him was that the big speakers would become heavier once their innards had been ripped out and the bombs had been installed, because the bombs weighed in at two tons. That, he knew, would be noticed by forklift operators but should suffice, he hoped, to get the devices past customs, surrounded as they would be, by tons of gear.

The road crew began their job, working through the night to set up for the concert.

* * *

Half an hour before the concert was scheduled to begin, Instinct and The Shadows, surrounded by an augmented security detail, left their hotel on foot for the walk across the resort’s piazza. The throngs of clamoring press and shrieking fans dogged their steps, and every member of both bands felt relief, to varying degrees, as they entered the Burswood Dome via a side entrance.

One of the smallest venues they’d booked, the Burswood Dome would seat less than nine-thousand people. It was, however, the largest available venue in the Perth area, and Perth, due to its status as the most isolated major city on earth, was unlikely to generate massive crowds. In spite of that, the tickets had sold out within hours of becoming available weeks before. Helen had been pressured by the promoter to add additional shows, but had resisted because of the timing of the shows in the other cities of Australia.

Both bands retreated to their dressing rooms to change, where Brandon discovered that Helen had altered his wardrobe to suit their location. Holding up the Australian-flag-print boardies, which along with tennis shoes would comprise his costume, he rolled his eyes in Chase’s direction. It took Chase a moment to figure it out and say, “She’s skipped the shirt again, huh? Get used to it; she’ll probably have you playing shirtless in a blizzard before the tour is over.” Brandon shrugged and rolled his eyes again.

Jon and Eric snickered, though each quickly checked their own outfits to make sure that Helen had no further surprises in store for them. She’d taken to rotating their wardrobes, stating her opinion that showing some skin was good, but that doing it every time would diminish its impact. On average, she had two of the guys shirtless on stage at each concert, unless the weather was hot in which case no one wore a shirt. Two was only an average; on two occasions she’d set out shirts for everyone, and for other concerts just one or two. Brandon had noticed, early on, that the rotation was by no means even; he’d found himself shirtless on stage for the vast majority of their concerts.

Chase preferred to play shirtless, but he’d finally agreed to wear a loose tank top occasionally and was less than thrilled to find that tonight was one such night.

Eric found that this time he’s been given jeans with no shirt, as he preferred, and Jon found boardies and a black t-shirt.

Once dressed, Instinct huddled near the stage, just out of sight, listening to The Shadow’s final number. All four shared a look, and Jon spoke for them all when he said, “Those guys are pretty good. Weird as hell, but good.”

Twenty minutes later, the announcer’s voice echoed through the dome, drowning out the roar of the crowd, as Brandon glanced around and the ten-count began; Chase, focused and intent, looking toward his drums. Taking his place center-stage, Brandon looked out upon the crowded dome as the single key-light pulled him from the darkness. Brandon gave the crowd a single wave as Jon played the distinctive opening riff to ‘Believe’.

With a new confidence born of experience, Brandon sang the first refrains, the fact that thousands of eyes were upon him almost, but not quite, forgotten.

Two songs later, Eric launched into a bass solo, striding forward to the edge of the stage. Working his Fender Precision Bass, he took care to puff out his bare chest, enjoying the attention that he knew he was drawing. It was a thrill he loved, though he’d rarely admit to it.

They’d played three extra songs as an encore, and with the crowd still roaring in their ears the four guys had jogged off the stage, Brandon pausing to give a single final wave before disappearing from sight.

Walking into the backstage area, Eric and Jon set down their guitars, and Chase wasted no time in peeling off his now sweat-soaked shirt before turning to his band mates to yell, “They loved us. That was fucking great, guys.”

“Yeah, that was awesome,” Steve said as he jogged over to tap fists with the members of Instinct.

A flood of people began to arrive, a roughly even mix of press and guests. The guests, as usual, were all female, a fact not overlooked by the press, just as Helen planned.

The stuttering, uneven glare of camera flashes drummed at their eyes as they entered the main backstage lounge and Helen paired them off with pre-selected reporters.

While the interviews were underway, Helen mulled her problem; with Barbra gone, Brandon had no ‘girlfriend’. Chase too was noticeably single, but unlike Brandon, he hadn’t been seen with any girls since Las Vegas. Brandon’s lack of an escort could be explained by loyalty to Barbra, but Chase’s, she knew, was beginning to spark rumors.

Helen hoped that Brandon’s friend Linda would be enough to put a stop to those rumors after a few staged appearances with Chase, and Helen had gone so far as to make a phone call earlier that week, but had found, to her dismay, that neither Linda or Jim possessed a passport. Therefore, any grist for the rumor mill would need to wait until their return to the United States.

Once the interviews were over, Instinct and The Shadows retreated to a private room while Helen and Günter began evicting the lingering press.

As soon as the door was closed, Eric approached the three Shadows and said, “We’ve been having a blast here. Australia is fantastic and I think you guys will love it.”

Fingering his black shirt, Wilde said with a decided lack of enthusiasm, “Yeah it sounds great, but we won’t see much of it. We’ve got two concerts in Melbourne starting the day after tomorrow, and then one in Sydney and two in Brisbane. The morning after Brisbane, we fly home. We’ll have a couple of free days between concerts but they’re pretty well booked with PR stuff. Tomorrow would be a free day, but we’re flying to Melbourne. I doubt we’ll get to see much at all.”

Grinning, Eric announced, “That would suck... if it was true.”

The Shadows looked up in puzzlement. Zeke figured it out first as he read the four grinning musicians like a book. “You guys figured out a way to spring us, didn’t you?”

Jon nodded, with a slightly smug smile on his lips. “We sure did. We talked it over with Helen and she cleared it with your manager, but we wanted to surprise you. After the Brisbane gig, we’re all heading back up for five days at the resort we stayed at when we got here. It’s right on the beach and you guys will love it. The only thing to keep in mind is we’ve got to pretend we’re flying home after the Brisbane concert. That’ll throw the press off our trial. Helen has it all worked out, but the short version is: you guys get to have some vacation time down here. Oh, one other thing; we’ve delayed the flight to Melbourne by a day, so we’ll have tomorrow free to see some of Perth.”

Three delighted grins lit up at the news, followed by a few whoops of delight. Eric was thrilled, both at the prospect of some more vacation for everyone, but even more at the real reason he’d instigated the idea; he wanted a chance to get the planted GPS unit back. That was a detail that the members of Instinct had decided to avoid sharing with The Shadows. Eric’s happiness for The Shadows was real, he liked them all, Wilde especially, and wanted them to have some fun. He also had a few plans of his own for Wilde, once they were back at the Bunyip Beach Resort.

Those thoughts had to wait; Helen opened the door, declaring with a smile that the backstage area was press-free. The seven musicians traipsed out, and all but Brandon and Chase were delighted to find ten female fans, selected with care by the security staff, screaming their delight. Helen acted fast to rescue Brandon and Chase as half the girls moved in their direction. She yelled in their direction in her businesslike voice, “You two have an interview to do, so you’ll have to skip this party.”

Feigning their disappointment, Brandon and Chase followed Helen out from the backstage area, leaving Jon, Eric, and The Shadows to mingle with the girls. As soon as Helen had Brandon and Chase out of earshot, she said in a low voice, “There are two guys from the security detail waiting by the private entrance. Just follow them back to the hotel and if anyone, including them, asks, you have an interview. Go back to the suites and keep out of sight for an hour. By that time, the other guys should be paired up and you can join the party. If anyone asks at that point, you two have girlfriends back home.”

Sending the two shirtless guys out the door accompanied by the two security staff, Helen watched as they walked into a sea of camera flashes.

* * *

With the concert over, ‘Jerry’ supervised the dismantling and loading of the two band’s equipment, taking care to ensure that there were no difficulties or delays. He knew that every minute counted; he’d come much too far to risk having poor service endanger his plans.

As the first of the eighteen-wheelers pulled away into the darkness, The Scar glanced at his watch and smiled; the gear would be driven non-stop to Melbourne, arriving ahead of schedule. Each truck had three drivers who would operate in shifts, allowing them to complete the journey in just under forty hours, if all went well. This leg of the tour had been the one to cause The Scar the most concern; any delays would result in the two bands performing in Melbourne without most of their equipment. Air freight was one option, but the price had proved prohibitive.

* * *

The following morning, The Shadows each said their goodbyes to their female groupies, as did Jon and Eric, though they made arrangements to meet up with their girls that night. The members of both bands gathered for breakfast, and Chase led off the obligatory teasing of Eric while they waited for their food to arrive. “Hey bro, two again last night. I think you’ve had more three-ways on this tour than one-on-ones. How the heck do you talk them into it?”

With a self-assured grin, Eric replied, “I just let ‘em know, right up front, what I have in mind. Some flirting, and some hints, nothing explicit, and it usually works. Most of ‘em haven’t tried a three-way before, so I tell ‘em about what we can do. I’ve yet to have any complaints, so I must do it right. I always make sure they are cool with everything, and never pressure anyone, but so long as everybody has fun, no harm, no foul.”

Zeke arched an eyebrow and asked with interest, “So tell us, oh great stud, just what do you do in bed with two or more girls?”

Still feeling no trace of self-consciousness, Eric knitted his hands behind his neck, and with a big smile he looked at his right arm and flexed his bicep before answering, “I let ‘em play, that’s what. I sprawl out on the bed and let them take the lead. They almost always love that. Man, I’m telling you, that night in Rome, when I had three, was incredible. I was stretched out, two girls tonguing my chest while the third went down on me. Their hands were everywhere while they did it, it was wild. I got off four times that night, because after that they each wanted to do me one-on-one, so I did each one in turn while the other two played with my bod. Dude, you gotta try it.”

Shaking his head at his brother’s bravado, Jon, himself no stranger to three-ways, added, “I think he’s lazy; he makes the girls do all the work.”

Eric flipped off his brother before replying with a laugh, “Hey, when they come to a concert looking to score somebody famous, who am I to disappoint? The more the merrier, right? Like I have to tell you that; you have three-ways sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it’s not what I try for every time,” Jon said, before changing the subject and asking everyone, “So what’s the plan for today?”

Brandon answered that one, “I want to see the Indian Ocean and swim in it.”

Jon nodded, “Sounds like a plan. We’ll need to get together with Helen and Gunter to plan it, or we’ll be mobbed; but maybe they can think of something.”

A slight scowl from Wilde caught Eric’s attention. He watched as Wilde exchanged a glance with Steve. Taking his time to think of an excuse, Steve was about to speak when Eric interrupted to say, “Anybody who doesn’t want to go in the water doesn’t have to; we just want to see the Indian Ocean. We’ll take along a beach umbrella too.”

Steve let his mouth drop open in surprise. Turning to look at Wilde, who was seated by his side, Steve found a pair of amused eyes as Wilde whispered, “Eric knows about my back and he’s damn good at figuring people out. He must have known what you were about to say.” Wilde showed no sign of continued reluctance, and the plans for the day were set, pending Günter’s arrangements.

Günter’s plan turned out to be simple; rent a mini-bus, drive out to a beach north of Perth that wasn’t crowded, and hope like hell the press didn’t get wind of it. It was a gamble; Günter knew that, individually, people would most often treat celebrities no different, but in groups lay the danger. Helen had been less than thrilled, but she’d acquiesced when faced with the demands of both groups.

Crossing the Swan River and skirting to the north of Perth, Helen in the passenger seat, Günter at the wheel. Helen leafed though maps and tourist guides, searching for ideas. Chase saw a familiar name on the sign and said, “Look, Brand, they’ve got a highway with your name on it.”

Günter glanced at the sign, which indicated that the highway was several kilometers away, and he said, “The Brand Highway is part of Australia’s Highway 1, which circumnavigates the country. It runs north from Perth to Geraldton, which is about three hundred miles up the coast from here. It was opened in the 1970’s.”

Her curiosity aroused, Helen glanced up from her map, smiling as she asked, “How come you knew that, Günter?”

“I’ve been reading about Highway 1 for quite some time. Before we divorced, my wife and I planned a retirement trip. We wanted to drive it, all of it. I’m still going to do it one day, just me. That’s my dream.”

Helen gave Günter a thoughtful look; she couldn’t see the appeal of driving thousands of miles around Australia, but she was happy that he had his dreams, and she had no doubt that he’d achieve them.

They drove north on the Mitchell highway, paralleling the coast. Spotting an off-ramp for Yanchep Beach Road, Helen decided, based on the guides, that it was worth a try.

Gunter wheeled to a stop in the strip parking lot, noting to his relief that the beach appeared relatively uncrowded. The members of both bands piled out, and the four members of Instinct, plus Zeke, peeled off their shirts, leaving them in the mini-bus.

After dashing across the road along with his friends, Brandon looked out across the creeper-covered dunes at the sparkling expanse of the Indian Ocean. Seeing exotic places had long been one of his dreams, one of many he’d never hoped to achieve. The shimmering warm sea before him beckoned, and Brandon redoubled his pace, with Chase by his side.

The two bands, with Eric in the lead, raced down a sandy path to the beach. Eric spotted a couple of Jeeps on the sand, parked next to empty jet-ski trailers. Leaning up against one of the trailers was a hand-lettered sign, offering the jet-skis for rent. Eric whooped as he raced in that direction, his limp almost a memory. All but Steve and Wilde followed close behind.

Gunter and Helen, accompanied by the two Shadows, set up a beach umbrella borrowed from the resort.

Eric, tearing off on a jet-ski, roaring through the warm waters of the Indian Ocean, took a quick glance at the shore, resolving to do something about Wilde. Above all else, Eric hated to see anyone hurting, and he knew that Wilde still was. A more immediate concern flashed before his eyes; Brandon’s jet-ski, just a few yards ahead of his own, in a perfect position for a good rooster-tail soaking. With a grin and a laugh, and the wind in his face, Eric twisted the throttle, roaring away in pursuit.