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Ronon wondered how Rodney could be so oblivious to the way John sang every single love song for him. John was a damn good performer. The only other guitarist they’d had who’d come even close to having John’s spark was Ford, and he’d hared off and joined the Marines out of the blue. Ronon thought military service was honorable, yes, his grandfather had served. But he wondered what it said about his life, that all the best guitarists he knew would rather go out and leave their music behind and risk their lives. Ronon had felt horrible when John ruined his knee senior year, but he’d hoped, secretly, that John would come back to the music.
And now he had, and they were a steady feature at Duffy’s Bar every Friday night, and the crowds who came to see them were bigger and bigger every time.
Still, John was singing his heart out to Rodney. He was such a good performer that there was a good gaggle of girls who’d claim a table near the front of the stage closest to John and giggle up at him because they thought he was singing to them. They wore jeans and Johnny Cash t-shirts and cheered whenever John even glanced their way. Ronon wondered if they’d ever catch on to the fact that their table was right next to Rodney’s soundboard.
When John leaned into the microphone and crooned, “The more I love you / the less that I feel alone,” the girls hooted and hollered, batted their eyelashes at him, and he grinned.
When he strummed his way through Teyla and Jennifer’s duet on ‘Everything You Want’, Ronon could tell he meant every chord for Rodney, and the bleak look in his eyes when Teyla sang I mean nothing to you and I don’t know why made even Ronon flinch. John had it bad. So, so bad. It would have been pathetic if the crowds weren’t eating it up. Woolsey was wining and dining record producers and executives at every Friday night gig, and Jennifer swore she’d seen the manager for Djinn Aljunnu, Rodney’s favorite band, stop by Woolsey’s table one night.
“They’re going on tour soon,” Rodney said fervently during breakdown after yet another Friday show. “If we could open for them, that would be so, so amazing.” He reached out and patted John on the shoulder awkwardly. “Good job during Gone Away tonight. You really know how to bring the angst. I almost believe you really did lose someone.”
John froze.
Rodney ambled on, hauling Teyla’s bass drum.
Teyla frowned. She leaned in and hissed, “Does Rodney not know?”
“Know what?” Jennifer asked, but she also kept her voice low.
“About John’s mother,” Teyla said.
Ronon darted a glance at John, who shook himself out and finished lifting his guitar amp into the back of the Puddle Jumper.
“Everyone knows,” Jennifer said. “It was why John had to quit the band. His father -”
Ronon elbowed her, and she fell silent as John turned and headed back into the bar for the mic stands.
“I knew Rodney could be super oblivious,” Ronon said, “but this is a whole new level of ignorant.”
Jennifer sighed. “I’ll talk to him. After.”
Ronon nodded and went to help Teyla with her cymbals. They had just about everything packed away when Woolsey approached them, a young man walking with him, anonymous in the shadows.
“Good evening,” Woolsey said.
Ronon lifted a hand in greeting. “Hi.”
Woolsey’s companion stepped into the light, and Ronon’s breath caught.
“Ronon Dex, this is Cameron Mitchell, the lead singer of the Snakeskinners.”
Cameron Mitchell had an unmistakable, handsome face, blue eyes, and a Southern drawl. “Pleased to meet you.” He also had a firm handshake.
“You too,” Ronon said, glad when his voice remained steady.
“I’ve heard a couple of your songs on a demo Richard sent me, and you guys sound even better live.” Cameron smiled. “How would you feel about opening for us? We have a show tomorrow night, and we’d love for you to come check us out.”
The Snakeskinners were poised on the brink of success. Cover of Rolling Stone. Top Ten single. Everyone was just waiting to see how high their star would shoot. Ronon might or might not have had every single one of their songs memorized. But he had to play it cool.
“I’d totally be down for that,” he said, “but I’d have to check with the others.”
“Of course,” Cameron said, totally sincere.
Ronon had seen him performing. The growling, aggressive, hard-edged singer was the complete opposite of this nice young man with down-home Southern charm. “Thanks.”
“Call me, as soon as possible,” Woolsey said.
Ronon nodded. Jennifer, John, Teyla, and Rodney hurried over to him as soon as Woolsey was out of sight.
“What was that all about?” Teyla asked.
Jennifer had a dreamy look on her face. “Was that really Cam Mitchell?”
John raised his eyebrows. “The lead singer of the Snakeskinners?”
Ronon grinned. “Apparently Woolsey gave them some demos of our songs and they liked what they heard, so Cam Mitchell came to hear us tonight. They want to know if we want to go to their concert tomorrow night so we can check them out and see if we want to open for them.”
“Of course we want to open for them,” Jennifer said.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Call Woolsey!” Rodney said.
Ronon laughed and grabbed his phone. John, he noticed, turned away and fired up his own cell phone. The call to Woolsey was short, We’re in for tomorrow night to see the Snakeskinners . Woolsey said someone from his office would be in touch with them to get them tickets.
“I’m really sorry, Dad,” John was saying when Ronon hung up. “I know Saturday dinner’s just as important as Sunday dinner, but she really wants to go to this concert, and it’s a band I really like, and we don’t get to go out often. Usually I just hang out with her while she does her homework. I know, I know, the next time she has a Sunday night off I’ll bring her by for dinner, all right? Thanks, Dad. Good night.”
John hung up.
“That’s the story you have going?” Rodney asked. “Does your father know your girlfriend’s name is Space Monkeys?”
“It’s Dave’s fault,” John said. “Dad noticed something was up, and Dave told him I have a new girlfriend, and Dad will take a mystery girlfriend better than this, so I go with what works.”
“You always have,” Rodney said dryly, and John flinched.
“Rodney,” Jennifer said sharply, and she cast John an apologetic look. Apparently she hadn't had a chance to talk to Rodney yet.
“We’re going to the concert tomorrow night,” John said finally. “It’ll be fun. See you there.”
Rodney rolled his eyes and went to haul his soundboard into his car. Once he was gone, Ronon leaned over to John and said, “Your father wouldn’t happen to think your girlfriend’s name is Meredith, would he?”
John shoved at his shoulder, but he was blushing.
Ronon and Teyla had both seen Dave at some of their performances, and Dave hadn’t smiled at them, but he’d met their gazes, nodded. He saw how music made John happy too. He hoped it wouldn't end up making John miserable.
*
The next morning, Ronon was stringing up punching bags at the gym where he worked when a strange guy approached him. The guy was small, probably shorter than Rodney, but broad across the shoulders and chest. He had short, neat dark hair and blue eyes and was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. He was very out of place among the MMA gym crowd. Most of the guys who trained there could have broken him with one hand.
“Ronon Dex?”
“Who’s asking?”
The guy smiled, and he had dimples. “Hi, I’m Evan Lorne. Richard Woolsey sent me.”
Ronon relaxed. “Oh, hey, hi. Yeah, I’m Ronon. What’s up?”
Evan held out an envelope. “Pit passes and backstage passes for the Snakeskinners concert tonight. My business card is in there with my cell number on it, in case you need anything.”
Ronon resisted the urge to pounce on the envelope and squeal like a teenage girl at a Bieber concert. Instead he accepted it with one hand. “Thanks. I’ll let the others know.”
“Have fun at the show,” Evan said, and he turned and walked away.
Rodney, John, Jennifer, and Teyla met Ronon out front of the concert venue. Once upon a time it had been a fancy old-fashioned theater called The Rose, but it had been hollowed out and turned into a concert place instead. It had pretty good acoustics, for which Ronon was glad, because bad acoustics had ruined more than one show in his life.
“Pit passes?” Jennifer asked. She clutched hers to her chest and sighed happily. She was the kind of person who saved the ticket stubs from every concert she went to. “And backstage passes.”
“They included ones for Rodney,” Ronon said, handing them out.
Rodney snatched them from him, scowling. “Why wouldn’t they include me? I’ve been part of Space Monkeys since the beginning.” He shot John a look.
John said nothing, gazed down at his passes and smiled. Ronon wasn’t much for caring what other people thought - he had enough in his life to worry about, mostly his ailing grandfather - but he did kind of enjoy the jealous looks they got as a couple of burly bouncers (barely bigger than Ronon himself) let them down into the pit where they could get up close to the stage.
The band opening for the Snakeskinners was a weird goth band, most of the dudes rocking long white-blond cornrows and braids and leather jackets. They were called Todd Michael and the Hive (Todd the lead singer, Michael the lead guitarist and the only one with short hair), and they played some pretty hard stuff, but Ronon had fun thrashing in the mosh pit, so that was okay.
The Snakeskinners themselves were incredible. They exploded onto the stage with blazing power chords, a machine-gun drum beat, and Cam Mitchell growling into the microphone while the girls screamed and cheered. Vala Mal Doran, the lead guitarist, was sexy as hell, all in black vinyl, and she and Cam had ridiculous chemistry on stage. The drummer, a tiny Korean girl called Grace, was pretty damn hot, but Ronon’s favorite was the bassist, Amelia Banks. She had speed that wouldn’t quit, and Ronon was a little in love with her hands. The rhythm guitarist, Hailey, was tiny and blonde, and she looked like she was totally in the groove, in love with her guitar and oblivious to the audience.
“How did he get so lucky, the only guy in an entire band of hot women?” Rodney asked between songs.
“He’s just that good,” John said, studying Cam Mitchell with admiring eyes.
Ronon sang along to every song, and he danced with Teyla and John, and he let himself get swept away in the music. This was why he loved music. It moved the world. It made him feel stronger and more alive, pushed him past his body’s limits. He wanted to make people feel this way with his music.
After the encore, the five of them gathered up their backstage passes and headed over to another burly security guy, who let them backstage.
For a massive party. Vala was well into her cups and sitting on some guy’s lap, flirting with him shamelessly. Grace and Hailey were sprawled together on a couch and talking earnestly to another fan. Cam was surrounded by a whole gaggle of women, was grinning brightly and waving his hands a lot as he talked. Amelia was hanging back a bit, sipping quietly from a bottle of beer, amused.
But as soon as Ronon stepped into the room, Cam called out, “Hey, Ronon, Space Monkeys, so glad you guys came!”
For one second Ronon was taken aback by the way everyone in the room turned to look at them, but he recovered quickly, smiled. “Thanks for inviting us. You guys put on a great show.”
Vala abandoned the fanboy she was charming and strolled up to Ronon. “Well, hello, Muscles. Ronon, is it?”
“Ronon Dex.”
“Ooh. Dex. Like dexterity. You have big hands. What instrument do you play?”
“The bass,” he said, letting her lead him over to another chair. She pushed him down and sat in his lap. “Tell me more about your music. I’m always interested in new music, and Cam was playing the most intriguing little ditty the other day. It had a chorus that just hooked me and wouldn’t let me go. Go now, you are forgiven .”
That was one of the few songs Ronon had written, about his grandfather’s time in the service. He grinned. “Well, I like a little reggae, and a little reggae turns into ska, and John can do incredible things with chord hammers, so…”
Vala craned her neck. “Which one’s John? The blond one?”
“That’s Rodney, our primary songwriter and our sound guy. Also Jennifer’s boyfriend. No, John is the dark one.”
John was talking to Hailey on the other couch.
Ronon knew this was an audition of sorts, just like last night’s show had been. They’d passed the musical test. Now they had to pass the social test. Would they get along with this other band while they were on the road? So Ronon accepted the drink Grace brought him, but he took it slowly, made sure had a clear head.
Cam was the first to retire - and not with a fan in tow - citing an early wake-up for a radio interview. Grace and Hailey followed soon after. Vala seemed reluctant to let Ronon go, but eventually Amelia rolled her eyes and dragged Vala out to the bus, and the bands said their farewells.
Rodney and Jennifer took off in Rodney’s car. Ronon and Teyla had driven over in the Puddle Jumper, but John had also come in his own car. All night, he’d been quiet, talking to whoever wanted to speak to him, but he was reserved. Ronon knew all about the Sheppard charm, had seen John work it like a pro, but he knew why John had been so distant. All night, Rodney and Jennifer had been side-by-side, and everyone cooed over them being high school sweethearts, asked if Rodney wrote all his love songs for her.
Ronon caught John alone in the shadows behind the concert venue while Teyla was saying farewell to the Snakeskinners fans they’d met at the party.
“Can you do this?” Ronon asked.
“Do what?” John had his head tipped back, was searching for stars against the urban light pollution.
“Be in love with Rodney and have a front-row seat for his and Jennifer’s dreams coming true?”
“I’ve already done it for years, haven’t I?”
Ronon shook his head. “I really don’t get it. Rodney’s smart, and a damn good songwriter, and maybe even good-looking if you’re into that whole...blond thing. But he’s been an ass to you basically since day one. Why haven’t you moved on?”
John reached into his pocket, fished out his cell phone, unlocked it with a deft swipe of his fingers, and searched for a moment.
Piano music exploded into the night. Ronon recognized the song immediately, one of Rodney’s songs from back when they were freshmen. It was a solo piece, voice and piano, with intricate keywork and shifting time signatures, but it was a beautiful. And Rodney’s voice, while not as clear and sweet as Jennifer’s, was full of raw passion.
“That song’s not about you,” Ronon said.
John shook his head. “No, but this is the kind of music he has inside of him, and it makes me feel - alive. Always has. Even after my mom -” He shut off the song and pocketed his phone. “I can do this, Ronon. Believe me.”
Ronon did.
But he wasn’t sure he felt good about it.
John showed up to band practice faithfully on Monday evening, played and sang and smiled, and poured every ounce of love he could into their love songs, and Ronon wondered if Rodney would ever see.