Let the Music Play - 29. Preparations

Their first concert in Melbourne had been a smash, and in a few hours they’d be on-stage again, but Eric and Jon had grown restless in their suites and had decided upon a quick visit to the hotel bar... without telling Helen, of course.

Sneaking down the carpeted hallway past Helen’s room, they opened a glass door, emerging into the Hotel Victoria’s formal gardens. The hotel, small and exclusive, was laid out around the large central gardens, which included fountains, ponds, and a large botanical collection. The two brothers didn’t pause to admire the garden; they had a very different feature of the hotel on their minds.

Entering the small lobby from the gardens, they turned left, climbing three marble steps, and walked into the small old-world style bar. Several of the patrons looked up from their drinks, and two of them recognized the famous rock stars, but they were courteous enough not to make a fuss.

Taking seats at the old oaken bar, they ordered a round of drinks, which Jon ensured did not include tequila. “We better stop at three, we’ve got a concert tonight,” Jon said, and Eric nodded his agreement.

As they finished their third and final round, one of the patrons insisted on joining them, bending their ears by rambling on about the timeshares he was selling. Growing uncomfortable, not to mention bored, Jon exchanged a glance with his brother, finding agreement to his unspoken question in Eric’s eyes. “We’d better be going; we’ve got a lot of work to do.” Jon said, as an excuse to leave the bar.

Feeling a buzz from the alcohol, they left, deciding to take a short tour through the gardens to let the afternoon air clear their heads, in case they ran into Helen upon their return to the suites.

“There, over by the bushes,” Eric whispered, pointing urgently to the side as he and Jon walked along a cobbled path.

Noticing a hotel employee nearby pushing a serving cart towards a door, Jon asked, “Excuse me, but what the heck is that thing?” while pointing at the waddling animal.

Recognizing from the American accent that he wasn’t a local, the matronly lady smiled as she peered in the direction of Jon’s extended arm. “That’s an echidna. It’s kind of like a hedgehog, but it’s a native animal. A monotreme, I think it’s called, not a marsupial. We keep him in the gardens as a mascot and he helps us by eating bugs. We just take care that he doesn’t get out; he wouldn’t do well in the concrete jungle.”

“Are they poisonous?” Eric asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, hoping that they were not.

“Not that I know of, but those spines look pretty sharp,” the employee replied, as she continued on her way.

The two brothers walked closer to the grass verge, watching the small brown animal, barely a foot long, rooting around near the base of a wall, and snuffling around some rhododendron bushes.

Watching the odd creature from a dozen feet away, Eric grinned, tugging his shirt off overhand as he told Jon, “I need your shirt, dude.”

Arching an eyebrow, Jon asked, “Please tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

Eric grinned wickedly, holding out an expectant hand and nodding slowly. With a sigh, Jon peeled off his shirt, saying, “I had nothing to do with this, got it?” before handing his shirt to his brother.

Tiptoeing forward, Eric wrapped the shirts around his hands. The echidna was oblivious to Eric’s approach until he was just a few feet away. The echidna shuffled under a bush, rolling itself into a ball, as Eric stooped down to look. Using one protected hand, he rolled the small creature out from under the plant and then used both hands to cradle it as he lifted it from the ground. Walked back towards Jon, Eric declared, “That was easier than I thought. Okay, let’s go inside before this guy uncurls.”

As Jon led the way back towards their rooms, Eric held the echidna close to his chest, though he was very wary of its spines.

Entering the hallway via the glass door, Jon waited for it to swing closed before saying, “You’re on your own with this from here on in, bro.”

Pouting, Eric replied, “Just go back to your suite and call Helen. Ask her for some schedules or something.”

“No way, bro.”

Eric shrugged, knowing full well that Jon was just one sentence away from helping. “Okay, I guess you’ve forgotten that she made you wear Speedos and then a loincloth...”

“Count me in, I’ll do it,” Jon stated without hesitation as he opened his door and entered his suite to make the call.

Helen turned right after leaving her suite, letting the door swing closed behind her. She never noticed Eric dashing out from behind a big potted plant, preventing the door from closing with his foot. Eric slipped into her suite, allowing the door to close before Helen had even arrived at Jon’s door.

* * *

The dust bedeviled them... Driven by the winds rolling in from the west, the fine particles threatened to contaminate the Toowoomba facility’s cleanroom at every turn.

The engineer, decked out in his obligatory white cleanroom suit, breathed the harsh air of the room, struggling under the glaring halogen lights, selecting his tools with practiced care. Steeling himself for the task at hand, easing open the container lid with intense concern, he removed the first of the Kryton switches.

The switch, gleaming in the harsh light, resembled nothing so much as a large glass insect with spindly legs that had trod through gold. The engineer admired its fine precision before nesting it in the center of the divider assembly. These switches, he mused, had been the hardest components to procure and smuggle; the final item on their long list of exotic supplies to be obtained.

Dimitri, standing nearby with his camera at the ready, tried not to move, or breathe. He was thankful that the engineer was fully focused on his task, and thus not able to annoy The Scar, who stood pensively on the far side of the cleanroom window.

Installing the switch was not difficult; just secure it in a holder and connect the wires, making sure their gold-plated contacts were seated and sealed. Soon, the Kryton switch joined its brethren, further branching the thick wires, working in sequence to split the single wire into thirty-nine.

With the switches in place, the engineer attached the thirty-nine wires, each leading to one of the hexagon or pentagon-shaped explosive lenses, which had been assembled days before into a perfect sphere the size of a beach ball.

His task for the evening done, the clean-shaven engineer waited while Dimitri snapped two pictures, and then closed the lid of the washing-machine sized bombcase, leaving the remaining assembly work for his assistant to complete. The engineer breathed a faint sigh of relief as he stepped back from the assembly area, wondering with a faint vestige of curiosity what use would be made of this device, and the two others just like it.

That, he quickly decided, was something he did not wish to know. They were very close to completion, just one more day, perhaps two, and the bombs would be finished and their cases sealed. He knew that more weeks of work remained; mainly entailing the production of more components, but the completed bombs would no longer be his concern. The money he’d been offered was more than sufficient to ensure his secrecy, and so too was the knowledge that should his role ever be discovered, he’d be sharing a jail cell, or worse, with the mysterious people who had hired him. What he did not trust, though, was his employer, and he’d taken measures to protect himself in case of treachery.

Dimitri was the first to emerge from the cleanroom. “Vohzd, we are nearly done. Vladimir will run some final checks tomorrow, activate the electronics, test them, and then weld the cases shut. Once he has drawn a vacuum in the bombcases, we will have live weapons and the codes needed to arm and detonate them. We will be done in two days at most, well ahead of schedule.”

The Scar breathed a sigh of relief, and checked to be certain that they were not likely to be overheard. “You have done very well, Dimitri. In less than a week, the freighter sails for America. Everything is set; I will fly out to meet them when they arrive and take care of emplacing the two devices and the decoys. While I am gone, keep our workers occupied. Weeks remain until our demonstration and I do not want them to become restless. Continue reminding them of the money they expect to receive. Use them to produce as many components as you can; but above all maintain security; if anyone appears to be the slightest risk, or become restive, terminate them immediately.”

“With pleasure, Vohzd,” Dimitri replied, meaning every word.

The engineer shucked off his protective garb after emerging from the cleanroom. He paused to weigh the risks, and decided to proceed with his request. He believed that he was safe until a bomb had been detonated, for they might still be in need of his expertise. Therefore, his request made perfect sense in many ways. It also meshed perfectly with his very real desire to see the fruits of his handiwork lighting up the sky.

His employer having left the room, the engineer said, “Dimitri, I have a request. These devices, they are like my children. I wish to see the detonation of the one you test. I have not asked for much, but I do ask this. I have designed them, I have crafted them, I have–”

Dimitri held up a hand to interrupt, smiling with genuine amusement as he said, “Vladimir that is a most reasonable request. Of course we will honor it. We would need you close in any case. Tell no one, but we will evacuate all the workers from the desert compound to this facility, and then take one bomb out to the desert compound and detonate it there. Once the bomb has detonated successfully it will be too late for security leaks to cause us irreparable harm, so you will all be paid and free to go. However, as you have noted from the additional components, we have future plans once more plutonium is obtained. I have no doubt that our employer will wish to make you an additional offer soon, not long after the first device is tested.”

The engineer nodded, smiling. Perhaps he’d been worried for nothing. Still, a little insurance couldn’t hurt, he reasoned.

* * *

In Los Angeles, Joe Clump settled onto his hallway cot at the halfway house, and gulped down his methadone under Phil’s watchful gaze. Looking up, Joe said, “I know why you watch me. You think I’m going to fall off the wagon. I don’t blame you, but I won’t. I’ve got no money – no place to go. I know the only chance I’ve got at life is to get clean, and I want to. Thanks for giving me that chance.”

Phil nodded, liking what he was hearing, but the one thing he knew all too well was what excellent liars addicts could be. Abandoning his position by his anonymous patient’s bed, Phil turned to walk away, knowing that the methadone would make the patient sleep. Turning to look back he said, “I believe you, but it’s a long road. I know, I’ve been on it myself, so I know what you’re going through. Therefore, I’ll watch. Now, maybe we can start with you telling me your name, or at least tell me why you won’t.”

Joe nodded, glancing down at his now thin frame. He doubted anyone would recognize him, but the last thing he needed in his life was the press, eagerly reporting on how low he’d fallen. He had his pride. It might be the only thing left to him, but he still had his pride. By way of an answer, he said, “I’ve got a past, and I can’t deal with both this and my past. I’ll do anything you ask, except tell you my name. Not yet anyway.”

Phil walked away, nodding in unspoken agreement. Not what he’d wanted, nor expected, but it was a start, and he had hopes for this one, but so much remained to do.

Joe, for his part, began to drift off to sleep, wondering what he could do in the long run. His music, he was sure, was a thing of the past. However, for an income, he could continue following Instinct’s tour, selling autographs and signed memorabilia. That wouldn’t last past the end of their tour, but it would be a start. With that resolved, he allowed himself to fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

A smiling, bare-chested Eric arrived in Jon’s suite in time to hear Helen say, “Once we get home we should still have a full week in the Los Angeles studio to start work on the next album. You guys have been doing some fine writing but we need access to a rehearsal room in the studio so you can start working with the new material. Also, since we’ll be spending a few more days in Australia than we originally planned, we’ll need to return to Los Angeles for a few days after the final concert for some PR stuff, before you guys head off to Telluride.”

The trade-off was one Helen had mentioned before, and both Eric and Jon nodded their agreement. With his decoy mission done, Jon changed the subject, “What about the paparazzi in Telluride? They drove us ape-shit last time.”

Helen smiled, “Leave that to Jim. He’s rented a place adjoining your property, and he, plus a few of his biker friends, will keep an eye out and handle any intruders. They won’t be bothering you guys much this time, of that I’m sure.”

Taking her leave, Helen said with a smirk as she left the room, “Oh, by the way, that video and photo shoot looks like it’ll be a major success. I think we’ll be doing a few more like it.” She never noticed that Eric had two t-shirts dangling from the waistband of his shorts.

As soon as Helen closed the door, Jon grinned at his brother. “I’m glad I helped bro. So, did you get the critter in place?”

Plopping into a chair, Eric said, “Yeah. She’s got a big suitcase under her bed and it was empty. I put a glass of water in there too, in case it gets thirsty. Being in the dark will probably make it sleep, so I bet she doesn’t find it until she packs tomorrow.” What Eric didn’t know is that echidnas are often nocturnal.

“She’s going to kill you. You know that, right?”

Laughing, Eric replied, “Yeah, but how will she know it was me?”

With a laugh of his own, Jon said, “Because it’s always you, bro.”

* * *

Their second concert at the Melbourne Cricket Ground that evening was as great a success as the one the night before; one of their largest concerts ever. Standing under the open sky, Brandon ran the stage as Jon and Eric, pounding away on their guitars, strutted forward. Standing beside Eric as he sang the last refrain of ‘Beyond’ before the guitar solo, Brandon walked the curving edge of the stage, waving his arm, getting the audience to sing along. Looking out over the sea of hand-held lights, sweat trickling down his bare chest, Brandon felt at home, doing what he was born to do.

Bringing down the house with a second and final encore set, Instinct concluded their Melbourne gig, taking their bows to thunderous applause.

As Instinct exited the arena after the concert, Eric glanced up at the enormous structure and asked, “How come they call it a cricket grounds when it’s a stadium? I thought cricket was played on a grassy field.”

Jon shrugged, “I think this was an Olympic stadium at some point. Maybe they used it for cricket afterwards.”

Zeke, following close behind, asked, “How the heck do they play cricket anyway? I tried watching it once; I couldn’t figure out the rules.”

In a conspiratorial tone, Brandon answered, “I’ll let you in on a secret; cricket has no rules, they just pretend that it does.”

Sharing a good laugh at the incomprehensible sport, the members of the two bands retired to their hotel, for the night’s obligatory after-concert party.

With the concert over, The Scar, conscientious as always, supervised the dismantling and loading of Instinct’s gear into its travel containers. The adjoining rail yard proved ideal; the containers were placed on flatcars for the journey to Sydney.

* * *

Two hours later, Helen, intending to get a good night’s sleep, climbed into bed. No sooner had she turned off the light than she heard a faint scratching sound. Clicking the light back on, she lay still, listening intently, wondering where the noise was coming from.

The source of the noise was, in fact, under her bed, so from her position on the bed it sounded as if it was coming from all around the room. Her eyes narrowing, she had but one thought; ‘rats’. She was astounded that a high-end hotel would have a rodent problem, and considered calling the front desk. Dismissing the idea ­– she knew she’d need some proof – she scrambled out of bed, intent on finding the source of the noise. Snapping on more lights and arming herself with an umbrella, she searched around the perimeter of the room, stopping every few paces to listen.

From the edge of the room, she was able to discern that the nose was coming from under the bed. Stooping to listen, she spied her erstwhile empty suitcase, and a few moments more was all she needed to identify it as the source of the noise.

Gingerly, keeping the suitcase level, she eased it out and set it on her bed. Recalling the cane toad, she no longer suspected a rat, at least not one of the four-legged variety. Helen unzipped the soft-sided luggage, taking care to keep the lid pressed closed. Taking a breath and holding it, she raised the lid a few inches, and found a pair of beady black eyes atop a long snout staring back at her.

Shoving the lid closed, she zipped up the case. “Eric,” she growled, as the scratching and snuffling from within her suitcase resumed.

Throwing on a dressing gown, and snatching up an envelope containing four key-cards, she stalked out of her room, making a beeline for Eric’s suite. Once outside the door, she stopped to listen, hearing muffled female giggles from within. Perfect.

Helen tried several key cards until she was rewarded by a green light. Taking a deep breath, she stormed into the suite, aiming directly at the open bedroom door, paying no heed to the clothes scattered in the hallway. Pausing just outside the door in order to avoid the sight within, Helen bellowed, “Eric, get your ass out here now!”

Counting to three, ignoring the startled voices from within, Helen barged into the open doorway of the well-lit bedroom, just as the bed sheet was pulled hurriedly up by one of the two girls who lay on either side of Eric.

Covered from the mid-chest down by the sheet, and with the two startled girls hugging him tight, Eric gaped at Helen, who stood, arms crossed, tapping her foot as she demanded, “Get that damn hedgehog out of my room! Don’t waste my time denying it; I know damn well it was you.”

Biting back a laugh, Eric replied, in as innocent a voice as he could muster, “It’s not a hedgehog, it’s an echidna.”

“I don’t care what the fuck it is, get that spiky thing out of my room,” Helen roared in reply.

Somewhat cowed by Helen’s fury, Eric fingered the sheet as he said, “Okay, but unless you turn around, you’re going to get an eyeful of something you don’t want to see.”

Stepping out of the room to avoid the coming view, Helen waited impatiently for Eric to appear. Three seconds later, decked out in a pair of cotton boxers, he did. Helen said not a word, and pointed to the door of his suite.

Pausing only to tell his two guests, “I’ll be back in a minute,” Eric skulked out the door, avoiding Helen’s glare.

“I was planning on getting a good night’s sleep,” Helen snarled as Eric lifted the suitcase, taking care to keep it level.

Without another word, Helen followed Eric as he carried the suitcase out to the garden. He noticed water leaking from a corner of the case, but decided to refrain from mentioning it to Helen.

Spying a row of bushes near the entrance, Eric set the suitcase down at their base and unzipped it. Lifting the lid, he found the echidna curled into a ball in the corner, and the water glass he’d placed in the suitcase laying on its side next to the creature.

Picking up the glass, Eric then slowly tipped the suitcase on it side, rolling the Echidna out. He used the glass to gently roll the creature under a bush, saying, “There you go, little guy.”

Standing up, Eric spared a look into the suitcase. Catching sight of the shredded lining, caused by the sharp front claws of a creature that could routinely break open termite mounds, Eric hurriedly zipped the case shut before Helen could notice the damage. Or at least, he tried. Helen’s hand lashed out, staying his, and she opened the case. Noticing the shredded lining first, and the two inch long cylindrical droppings next, she growled, “Take this case back to your room. You’re giving me yours.”

As they walked back inside, Helen said in the quiet voice that Eric feared most, “If you ever put any form of animal near me again, I’m going to stuff you in a suitcase.”

Still in a foul mood, Helen began plotting her revenge as she made her way back to her suite with Eric’s suitcase in hand. Those plans were soon deferred as she struggled to fall asleep, only to have the thoughts of the many tasks still to be done for the coming concerts delay her slumber.

* * *

Two days later, preparations of a different sort were well underway in Toowoomba. The engineer attached a vacuum pump to the last of the three bombcases, allowing it to run for two hours as he attended to a very private task; lining his briefcase with the four pounds of hammered gold he’d sequestered from the project. He still had his doubts about his employers, and the gold would be his; a bonus if they paid him, and a means of starting a new life in Australia if they did not. He chuckled to himself; he was sure they’d never suspect a thing.

Sitting in front of a computer monitor in The Scar’s office, Dimitri snacked on popcorn as he observed the engineer’s antics on one of his hidden security cameras. The Scar looked up from his paperwork to ask, “Anything new?”

Shrugging, Dimitri replied, “Vladimir is putting the gold in his briefcase.”

Chuckling at first, The Scar’s mood changed to one far from humorous as he asked, “Is there any chance he sabotaged the weapons?”

“No Vohzd, I do not think so; nothing beyond his attempt to alter the detonation codes. I think that he intended that as his ‘ace in the hole,’ as the Americans would say.” Dimitri had to smile at the man’s antics, even though he seethed at the thought of what might have occurred. Had the engineer succeeded, they would not have been able to detonate the devices without him, and they would not have known until the bombs were deployed. “I reset the codes myself while he was out of the room, immediately prior to watching him weld the bombcases shut.”

Nodding, still unhappy about the not-unexpected turn of events, The Scar said, “You have done well, Dimitri. You noticed his excessive demand for gold and your plan to allow him to proceed with his larceny is brilliant. I’d have preferred to kill him, which would have delayed the completion of the devices.”

True intelligence professionals are many things, but the best are modest. Dimitri shrugged. “Simple fieldcraft, Vohzd. When your adversary is doing something against you, it is often better to allow them to busy themselves with the plot you know about, instead of changing to one you are unaware of. In this case, we know what he is up to, so allowing him to continue working for us was the logical move. Shall I kill him once he has drawn the vacuum on the bombs?” Dimitri asked with as much care as inquiring about trash.

Tempting though the offer was, The Scar replied, “Leave him for now. We still have weeks to go before our demonstration. If we run into any technical issues, we might need him. He’s also making us some components, so he has a purpose. I’m quite sure we won’t be hurt by the loss of three pounds of gold.” Both men shared a laugh, envisioning the billions that were nearly within their grasp.

Two hours later, the engineer completed drawing a hard vacuum within the final bombcase. He then buzzed Dimitri on the intercom to inform him that all was ready. A delighted Dimitri and The Scar strolled purposefully into the facility, beaming with pride and buoyed by a heady sense of impending success: the bombs, after all their trials and tribulations, were now complete.

After looking at the devices he’d designed and created, feeling more than a little pride, the engineer told The Scar, “The bombs are now live. As specified, I have installed a net of wires in the outer case; if any are cut, a switch will initiate detonation. The cellular radio receiver is active; under no circumstances activate the triggers I have created.”

The Scar was in such a good mood that the engineer’s needless cautions did not irritate him. Smiling, he ran his hand over the silky smooth grey-painted steel of the bombcase, savoring the power with an indiscernible shiver.

Several weeks previously, The Scar had taken delivery of five subwoofers; giant speakers four foot on a side, identical to ones in Instinct’s sound gear. The subwoofers had been gutted, leaving nothing but hollow boxes which the bombs had been designed to fit within.

The four men ­– the engineer’s assistant had joined them – set to work, unencumbered by the now-unneeded cleanroom suits. In turn, each empty subwoofer had a bombcase installed within it. Three bombcases contained only some spare components, some shielding, and a few scraps of plutonium. The final two were live nuclear devices. When each unit was mounted in place, The Scar personally remounted the rear panels, completing the job, and five subwoofers sat on their pallets, ready for loading.

The cleanroom, its job done, ceased to exist as Dimitri cut away one panel of plastic sheeting, revealing a loading door in the side of the building. Shoving it open, he walked to the forklift. His heart skipped a beat as the forklift’s engine hesitated before coughing to life. He maneuvered into position, taking great care as he lifted the first subwoofer, which now weighed in excess of two tons, close to the forklift’s capacity.

Gingerly placing the first subwoofer in their eighteen-wheeler’s cargo box, he waited while the other three men manhandled it into place, utilizing the rollers built into its pallet. Four more followed in turn, and an hour later all five were arrayed, single-file, down the big truck’s cargo box and strapped securely into place. Everything was ready, fully three days ahead of schedule.

The Scar, fearful of being late, dashed for his Land Rover, checking his watch as he tore out of the compound; he had two hours before the two band’s equipment was scheduled to arrive in Brisbane, and he wanted to be there to ensure that all went well.

* * *

Flying into Brisbane from Sydney, Instinct and The Shadows, plus their entourage, checked into the Sheraton hotel in Brisbane’s city center. All were looking forward to the final two Australian concerts, and then their coming vacation at the Bunyip Beach Resort.

While Jon and Chase talked with Helen about an interview the two of them were scheduled to do after the concert, Eric and Brandon, accompanied by Günter, checked out the suites, starting with Eric’s, and then ending in Brandon’s. The suites were nearly identical, one bedroom, a living room, decorated in a modern style similar to most of the suites they’d stayed in. The most apparent differences with these, as far as Brandon could tell, were the large-print photos of Australian landmarks on the walls, and the lingering scent of air freshener, which had been a little too heavily applied. “It’ll sure be nice to get back up north to the resort again; I loved it. I hope we can come back to Australia on the next tour too,” Brandon said, as he gazed out a window at the city of Brisbane.

Eric turned towards Brandon and Günter and grinned, “Yeah, I’m looking forward to getting back up there too. I’ve got a few plans for Wilde.” Brandon arched an eyebrow in a meaningful way, which prompted Eric to add with a laugh, “Get your mind out of the gutter, dude. You know those faint scars that I told you Wilde has on his back? He feels super self-conscious about ‘em and I figure that if he got a tan, they wouldn’t show. So, I aim to get him out in the sun when we get to the resort.”

“Make sure he uses sunscreen; he’s really pale,” Brandon cautioned.

Eric nodded, “Yeah, will do. I think he’ll tan up okay though. I hope Jerry will be joining us too.” Brandon caught the meaning of the last sentence; they still needed to retrieve the GPS, and Günter didn’t know about that.

Leaving Brandon’s suite, Eric remarked, “At least these suites have connecting doors for you and Chase. I’m going to get unpacked. Later guys.”

Alone with Günter, Brandon couldn’t help but wonder what the man thought of Eric’s last comment. Brandon hadn’t felt comfortable enough to ask before, but feeling more at ease with Günter and thinking that it might be good to clear the air, he asked, “Does it bother you that Chase and I are together? You’ve never said one way or another.” Brandon smiled to let Günter know that this was a friendly conversation, and not an employer-employee situation. He hoped the man knew him well enough that he could be open, without fear of repercussions.

After thinking for a few seconds, Günter decided that honesty was the best policy, under the circumstances. “At first, I was uncomfortable with the situation, but I considered it none of my business. After getting to know you both, I can truthfully say that I have no further issues. You’re just two guys who happen to like guys. I also have to say that I very much like working for Instinct; all of you treat me like a person, not furniture. I’ve worked security for a lot of years and I’ve been treated like dirt more than once.”

Confused and more than a little surprised, Brandon asked, “People you were protecting treated you like dirt? Okay, forget the fact that that’s obnoxious as hell; isn’t it just plain stupid from their point of view? I mean, pissing off the guy you are depending on for your safety seems like a really dumb move.”

“You don’t know many celebrities, do you? Some of them can be the most stuck up, obnoxious, egotistical people on the face of the earth. I guess they know that I’m a pro; I don’t let my personal feelings interfere with my work. Either that, or, as you say, they are just plain stupid. However, those are not mutually exclusive propositions,” Günter replied in a wry tone of voice, with a slight smile curling onto his lips as he said the last sentence.

Brandon shook his head in amazement, replying with a smile of his own, “You’re right, I don’t know many celebrities. Heck, I’ve met a few for photo-ops after concerts, but that’s it... and come to think of it, a couple of them came across as jerks.”

Nodding, Günter turned for the door as he said, “Fame can go to people’s heads, I guess. Well, I better get busy, I’ve got to brief the local security hires for tonight’s concert.” With a smile on his face, Günter strolled out of the suite. In the hallway, he paused to glance back at Brandon’s door, saying softly to himself, “Don’t ever change.”

A few paces further on, Günter met Chase, exchanged a friendly nod, and proceeded on his way. He thought back to what he’d said to Brandon, and felt more than a little surprised that he’d felt free to be so honest with a principal. That, for him, was a first.

Chase entered his suite and used the connecting door to creep into Brandon’s, finding his boyfriend with his back turned, gazing out at the city skyline. Approaching silently, Chase stood behind Brandon, placing his left hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, running his right hand through Brandon’s hair and then reaching around, slipping it under Brandon’s shirt. Using his fingers to slowly trace Brandon’s washboard stomach, Chase felt Brandon lean back into him. “Mmmm,” Brandon whispered, “That feels good.”

Brandon turned slowly, as Chase raised his hand from Brandon’s stomach, using it to tug Brandon’s shirt up and off. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, Brandon smiled, reaching down and hooking his thumbs under Chase’s shirt. Slowly, Brandon raised it, pulling it off, letting it fall on top of his own. Brandon traced his hands down the sides of Chases’ torso, feeling the heat from his skin, as Chase leaned in for a kiss.

Their tongues dueled, passions rising, as Chase let his hands roam on Brandon’s muscular back, working their way lower, until they found their way blocked by the waistband of his shorts. A few tugs removed that particular obstacle. Together, still in a passionate embrace, they stumbled towards the waiting bedroom just a few yards away, the two lovers leaving a trail of discarded clothes.