Page 10 of Echoes of a Muted Song

“Now, are you gonna make me ask or are you gonna take off that wicked coat and show me what you’ve got hidden underneath?”

“I suppose,” Johnny said, coyness dripping like honey from his tongue as he batted his eyes up at me. “Ihadthreatened to make him wait until we were in the club, but I guess this is close enough.”

“It’s gonna have to be, cause I’m not letting you through that door until I see what’s gonna have everyone panting after you tonight.”

As long as all they did was pant, I didn’t give a shit, though a part of me wished that we had a member of Damage Control with us tonight because something told me that whatever ensemble Johnny had put together wasgoing to be fuckin’ droolworthy. Judging from the wicked smirk on Johnny’s face, he knew it, too, and preened while he undid the belt, then turned away, the little shit, giving the crowd a little shoulder show, before turning back to us and letting it spill from his shoulders to pool on the ground.

Holy.

Shit.

I knew my mouth was hanging open.

Johnny was wearing black fishnet stockings and a purple leather miniskirt made to look like it was crafted from dragon scales. Instead of a top, leather stripes were wound around his body, crossing in places, buckled in others, accenting his curves and the sway of his hips as he swiveled them and spun, showing off the outfit to an array of catcalls and whistles.

Screwamember, I needed thewholeDamage Control crew for this, and a personal assistant for all the takedown notices that were going to have to be issued after all these photos went up on social media. Snatching up Johnny’s coat, I wrapped it around his shoulders and pressed my lips to his ear.

“Behave,” I growled and felt him shiver.

He’d sure as hell heard that. Then that brat had the nerve to grin, wink and press a kiss to my lips before whispering, “Now what would be the fun in that?”

Oh, we were fixing to have fun tonight,I thoughtas I escorted him in, one hand pressed to the small of his back, which he promptly tugged down to cup his ass before grinning at me again. So of course I pinched it, he’d damn near invited me to pinch it by putting his hand there, so when he jumped, I just gave him the same smirk he was giving me.

“Game on,” he hissed, grinning as he tugged me out on the dance floor.

Between the beat and the roll of his shoulders, it was easy to get lost in the rhythm of the dance and the way he had eyes only for me. Talk about a rush. After so many years of performing, I could feel when there were eyes on me, I didn’t have to see them, and yet, even when he spun away, he watched me over his shoulder as he straddled my leg, grinding against my thigh as I held him in place with my fingers splayed across his belly. It was impossible to ignore how well we fit together when he leaned back, hooked one hand behind my neck, and rode me like a stripper pole, to the point where someone actually did toss a bill at him while others cheered and whistled.

“They’re gonna go to bed tonight dreaming about what you get to touch,” Johnny said as he spun so he was in my arms, our lips millimeters away from touching.

“You’re damn right,” a nearby dancer said, inciting the fury of his partner, who smacked him on the arm before stalking away.

And he’s gonna go to bed alone tonight, I thoughtas I tongue fucked Johnny right there for the world to see. At this point I didn’t care if I was going to die from terminal finger cramps after issuing a million takedown notices. I’d never felt such a sense of rightness and certainty as when Johnny Amaral was in my arms.

The beat changed and I lifted him, the two of us showing off a bit when he locked his legs around my waist and bent backwards until his hair was nearly touching the ground as I rocked him against me. One night, very soon, I was gonna pin him to the wall and hope they hadn’t used cheap plaster or I’d be paying to have a dent fixed. We were sticky with sweat by the time we sauntered up to the bar a few songs later, Johnny ordering a Kamikaze while I ordered a whiskey, neat, and downed it in one go.

“You get drunk on me, and I don’t know where I’ll get a shopping cart to wheel you back to the hotel in,” Johnny murmured in my ear before he nuzzled my neck and giggled, no doubt remembering the same night I was.

Come check out my gig in Fairhaven, he’d said, inviting my whole band down to meet his new bandmates. I’d been skeptical at the time, since he was already on his third bass player and the drummer had just joined them the week before. They’d turned out to be the pieces he and Rebel had been searching for, and now all these years later, they were not only going strong, they’d finally broken through to the next level.

They’d played two sets that night, and in between people had been buying rounds for the table while others had been sending over drinks and invitations to Johnny and Rebel, who had major reputations around that place. Rumor had it that they’d hooked up a time or two but…nope, wasn’t going to let my thoughts lead me down that avenue.

I wanted to remember what I could recall of the stars overhead and the metal digging into my shoulder and the back of my skull as he’d managed to hit every pothole on the street he’d been wheeling me down. I still didn’t get why he hadn’t let Keegan do the pushing, since outside of Rebel, who’d been passed out in the cart Robbie was pushing, he was the closest one to my size. Oh wait, I did remember why he hadn’t been pushing. He’d been puking over the edge of the cart Johnny’s drummer, Ozius, otherwise known as Ozzy, had been pushing. The man had to stop a few times himself, to barf in a bush, if I remembered correctly.

Someone had puked on someone that night, too, I was almost certain of it. Maybe it had been Ozzy puking on Keegan? I’d have to ask one of them if they remembered.

Talk about a night I wished someone had pictures of.

Had any of us even had cellphones with cameras back then?

Things had come a long, long way sincethe phone that used to be mounted on my grandmother’s wall.

“I still owe you for that night, too,” I typed into my device, showing it to him after I’d added, “I woke up with the worst headache of my life after you bounced me down the street.”

“I was just trying to get your attention.”

“And nearly got me killed when you lost your grip on the cart as we were coming down off the bridge,” I typed, leading to him snorting his drink all over my hand when he read it.

Grumbling, I reached for a napkin, shaking my head as I blotted my hand dry. Fuckin’ Johnny. He was the most beautiful wreck I’d ever seen.

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