A gay story: How to Bang Ch. 01
ALL CHARACTERS IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS ARE OVER 18.
Characters are fictional.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. Copyright © belongs to MJ Roberts, 2014. All rights reserved. Please do not reproduce without permission from the author.
Also, thanks to all the readers who have reached out and become friends. For all those who have sent compliments, this story is for you!
Enjoy!
MJ
*
Our usual drummer couldn’t go on the road with us for our upcoming tour, which meant we were stuck with the sub drummer. I get along with pretty much everyone, but this guy’s only redeeming quality was that I didn’t have to play with him that often. So seven months of sharing a small RV plus a stage with him was not exactly what I was looking forward to.
It was enough to give a guy a case of the scratch.
But what are you going to do? He knew all our stuff. He was there. He was willing to do it.
Still.
Three days before we were supposed to leave he got into a car accident and broke his wrist and ankle.
Thank God, and oh fuck.
Zeeter, our guitarist, texted me with the news. Then he called me a few minutes later.
“This is your fault, dude,” he said by way of hello.
I laughed. I knew where this was going.
“Matt, you put some sick fuck juju on him.”
“I wasn’t the one who just last week said, ‘I hope he breaks his wrist or something.’ That was you, Zeet.”
“Yeah,” Zeeter said. “I wanted to punch him. I couldn’t believe he was such a dick to Julie in rehearsal.”
Julie is our lead singer, slash keyboard player, and Zeeter’s girl. The last thing she needed was our drummer hitting on her and harassing her before the tour even started.
“Anyway,” Zeet said. “You’re a bassist. You know a ton of drummers.”
“Yeah, but they’ve all got steady work or day jobs. None of them can pick up and leave for a few months. Do we put an ad on Craigslist or something?”
“I guess. Wait, hold on, Julie’s saying something.” Zeeter must have taken his mouth away from the phone for a minute. I heard a muffled conversation, then Zeet was back. “Julie says she thinks she has a solution. She’ll call you in a few minutes.”
“Okay,” I said. I wanted to say something reassuring to Zeet, but I wasn’t really sure what to say. The truth was—when I didn’t have a bass in my hand—I was pretty quiet, even around Zeet and Julie, who were my best friends. “I’m sure everything will work out for the best,” I said. It sounded pretty lame.
Zeeter laughed. “Whatever. Hold on Matt… what? Julie wants to know if you’ll come over.”
“Now?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Sure,” I said.
“Pick up a pizza on the way,” he said.
I was curious to see what Julie had thought up. Knowing her, whatever it was would be interesting. As long as she didn’t have us playing along with a drum machine looping old techno, I was willing to hear her out.
I balanced the pizza box in one hand and pounded on their door with the other. “Pizza delivery!” I yelled out.
Julie opened the door. She’d buzzed one side of her hair almost completely off and dyed the other side blue. Even though she’d done it over a week ago, it was still jarring to me.
“That’ll be 400 bucks and a kiss,” I said. I stuck my cheek out toward her.
“Whatever.” She gave me a half hug, took the pizza, and sauntered into the small kitchen.
Zeeter came in to greet me with a big shoulder bump hug.
“Yo,” he said.
“Yo,” I said back.
“How do you get the bassist off your doorstep?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that one. Pay him for the pizza.”
Zeeter got paper plates out. Julie distributed the first round of slices. I admired their ease.
“So, what’s the big plan?” I asked Julie.
“You remember me telling you my cousin Aaron just graduated last week?”
I had to wrack my brain for a minute. I was expecting her to talk about someone local, so I had to shift gears.
“Yeah.”
“Well, I asked him if he’d like to tour with us, and he said yes. So I invited him down to audition, and if we like him, then we’re good to go.”
I just stared at her.
“I sent him all our stuff, so he has it. He said he could learn it in plenty of time.”
I was dumbfounded. “Drums? His instrument was drums?”
“That and piano, yeah.”
“Huh.”
“So, what do you think?”
I just sat there.
“He’s coming from the best rock and roll university on the planet,” Julie said. “I know you never met him, but he’s really laid back, you’ll like him, everyone likes him.”
“He’s cool, dude,” Zeeter said. “And he’s available.”
Julie put her fingers up with each point. “We already know he’s honest,” she said.
“Which puts him way ahead of fuckwad,” Zeeter said.
“Two, he’s available.”
“Which puts him way ahead of Mr. Drink-and-Drive-Before-a-Tour,” Zeeter said.
“Three, I know he’s not going to hit on me in the middle of the night.”
Zeeter snickered weirdly at that one.
“Four, he’s really good.”
Zeeter nodded.
“Five, he’s willing.”
Zeeter snickered again. What was with that?
I took a big bite of pizza. Then I shrugged. When I finished chewing I nodded and said, “So it’s settled. If he doesn’t suck, we’re all set. When does he get here?”
“His flight arrives tomorrow afternoon. I figured we’d audition him slash rehearse tomorrow night.”
“Awesome,” I said.
We actually practice and rehearse in the bar where our steady Wednesday and Thursday night gigs are. When I got there Julie and Zeeter were already there. Zeet was plucking out a riff from a new song he was working on.
I picked up my bass, made sure all the strings were still in tune, and began thumping out a bass line that would go with Zeet’s melody. I was facing the back of the stage, looking down, so I had to turn around when Julie said, “Oh, hi Aar.”
I turned around and felt like I was poleaxed through the chest. A few things hit me at once. He didn’t look anything like I thought he would look like. Most rockers look sort of like me. I’ve got long, dark hair down to my shoulders, wear black band T-shirts, and an ‘I can eat your face off’ if you step on me wrong kind of rocker look. Not Aaron.
He looked like a preppy teenage cupid. He was absolutely beautiful, with blond hair that had multiple shades of sand and light, and framed his face in a perfect natural curl. Intelligent, bright blue eyes. Freckles.
Exactly not my type.
Yet my balls surged up, and my mouth went dry.
He was wearing a white and blue polo shirt and khakis. And he was definitely gay.
I looked down at my bass and frowned. Not happy. I fiddled with my bass some more. “Hey,” I said.
“Hey,” he said back.
I don’t even know how to describe my reaction to him. It felt like going to the same fast food sleazy burger drive-thru and the clerk hands you a to go box filled with lobster.
He went to hug Julie, and then Zeeter, and then came over and transferred both his drumsticks to his other hand so he could extend his right out to shake mine. I had to look up at him or be rude.
I looked him in the eye and shook his hand. At least I didn’t get a zing of excitement from the contact.
“Matt Savland,” I said when I shook his hand.
“Aaron Tarpenter,” he said back.
I felt the urge to needle him. “So preppy boy,” I looked down at the sticks. “Can you actually do anything with those?”