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Ray’s foot taps against the floor of the car, “Hurry up, I want to get a good view.”
“Do you see any parking spots, asshole?” Hank shouts. “You think I’m doing circles around the block for my fucking health?”
“Pull up to the entrance,” Art says. “Ray, you go get yourself a spot, and we’ll meet you inside.”
As Ray crawls out of the backseat, Hanks yells, “Don’t ever say I never did nothing for you!”
Ray sends back the bird and hurries to the door. The clerk tears his ticket, and he trips over his own feet racing through the doors.
It’s pretty small for a concert venue, but that’s good news for Ray because he’s still able to see the whole stage even though he has to stand at the back of the room. He’s gonna kill Hank for running late on today of all days. Months of busting his balls about how excited he is for this, and they don’t even have the decency to pick him up on time.
A buzzing chatter echoes through the concert hall. Ray rocks back and forth on his heels in anticipation. He’s not as close as he’d like to be, thanks a lot, Hank, but being here at all has his heart racing.
The lights dim, and the crowd erupts around him. Ray’s never been so excited in his life.
“See, we’re not late,” Hanks says behind him.
“Shh!”
“What d’ya mean ‘shh’? It’s a fucking concert!”
“Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you so much for your attendance,” a voice swells over the speakers. “We’re so happy to have you all here tonight. Now, without further ado, please welcome to the stage: Pete McVries!”
Ray cheers along with the crowd this time. Hank starts to make fun of him, but a swift elbow to the chest shuts him up. Art’s laughter is loud, but Ray can’t focus on anything that isn’t Pete McVries taking the stage.
His voice is more enchanting in person than it is on the radio; something Ray didn’t think was possible, but he swears he can see gold floating through the air.
He wishes he were closer. Hank’s not getting anything from him for Christmas this year, that’s for sure. Even so, Pete’s smile blinds him all the way from the stage. Song after song, Ray falls more in love. Not that he’d ever admit it. That’d be never-ending ammunition for Hank and Art’s teasing.
“I’m real grateful for all of you being here tonight,” Pete says. His speaking voice makes Ray just as dizzy as his singing does. “I’d like to get a little closer if that’s alright with you.”
He hands his guitar off to a member of the band and jumps off the stage with the mic. Ray can’t see him through the crowd, but he can guess where he is based on how people are moving.
“Oh my God,” Ray says under his breath. “Oh, God.”
“Don’t cream your jeans, Garraty.”
“Shut up.”
The crowd moves like waves, closer and closer to Ray. Occasionally, the mic will pick up Pete saying a kindly “Hello” or “Thank you,” and Ray thinks he might pass out.
Pete finally breaks through to the back of the audience, and he stumbles his way to the one empty pocket left on the floor. A mere two feet from Ray. “Oh,” Pete’s mouth tilts up one side of his face into a smirk. “Hello there. What’s your name?”
Ray doesn’t say anything. There’s no way Pete McVries is talking to him.
“Ray, answer the man,” Hank shouts.
“Yeah, c’mon,” Art nudges him. “We ain’t come all this way with your stressin’ for you to blow this.”
Pete laughs. He offers his empty hand to Ray, the one holding the mic is down by his side; no one but Ray can hear him, “Ray? Is it?”
Ray nods. He can feel his mouth hanging open stupidly, but he can’t bring himself to do anything about it. Somehow, he wills himself to shake Pete’s hand. His fingers are rough from plucking at the guitar strings. Finally, the weight of every pair of eyes on him brings him crashing back down to Earth. “Yeah. Ray. Hi, nice to meet you.” He forces a smile, but it feels ridiculous and lopsided.
Pete beams back at him, “Your mother named you that because you’re a ray of sunshine, I’m sure.”
“I’m named after my grandfather.” Idiot. Ray kicks himself to hell and back in his head.
Pete laughs. “You from around here?”
“Yeah.”
“No!” Hank yells. “We drove two hours to get here.”
“Hank! For the love of God.”
“I’m honored.” Pete smiles. “Traveling all that way for little ole me. It was for me, right?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Ray’s voice fails him; all he can do is nod.
“Well then,” Pete brings the mic back to his lips. “For that, I say you oughta pick the next song.”
Just when Ray thought he couldn’t look any stupider, every song Pete’s ever released slips from his mind. He stands there like a fool with his mouth hanging open. The only saving grace is Pete’s encouraging smile.
“Broke, uh, Broken Road.”
“Oooo,” Pete nods. “Deep cut. I like it. Alright, guys,” he gestures to the band, and Ray thinks he might pass out when he hears the opening chords. Art has to hold him up by the shoulders when Pete starts singing. He walks backward into the crowd, his eyes never leaving Ray’s face until the very last moment. A warm tingling sensation ripples from the top of Ray’s head to the bottom of his feet when Pete sends him a wink.
Ray spends the rest of the show in a dreamy haze. His vision never quite refocuses properly because whenever it starts to, he swears Pete winks at him again from the stage.
“Come on, loverboy,” Hank pushes him when the lights come on. “That should be enough to keep your left hand occupied for a while.”
Ray lets himself be led to the exit. He can hear Art and Hank teasing him, but nothing can overpower the sound of Pete singing to him in his memory.
Someone taps on his shoulder right before he steps out the door. “Pete McVries would like to speak with you,” a man says.
“Who’re you?” Ray’s head is spinning.
“Security. Pete wants to meet you. Are you coming or not?”
“Oh, he’s fucking going,” Hank says. “Art and I are going to the hotel. Good luck!”
“Wait!” Ray whips around. “Don’t leave!” But they’re already gone.
“Follow me.” The security guard is halfway across the floor when Ray’s feet start working. He’s huffing and puffing like a goddamn idiot by the time he catches up. “Wait in here.”
It’s a small lounge backstage. The room is mostly empty, its brick walls are painted white, and there’s a single old leather couch pushed into a corner. Along one wall, a table holds an assortment of snacks and a pack of water bottles.
What the hell is he doing here? He can’t imagine a single thing Pete McVries would want with him. When the door opens, Ray almost jumps out of his skin.
“Whoa there,” Pete laughs. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t uh—“ Ray clasps his hands together and tries to make a coherent sentence. “Whatever I did: sorry.”
Pete quirks an eyebrow. “You didn’t do anything to be sorry for.”
“Oh, I thought maybe,” Lord, this is going terribly. “I don’t know, I picked a bad song or something.”
“Definitely not,” Pete smiles. “I don’t play that one nearly as much as I should. Would you like something to drink?”
“No thanks.”
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Pete grins. “I just couldn’t let a handsome face like that walk out without a word.”
Ray’s cheeks flush. “I, uh, me?”
“I didn’t invite anyone else back, did I?” Pete’s grin is hypnotic. “Usually the band and I go out for drinks after a show; I was hoping you would join me.”
“Yeah!” It tumbles out of Ray’s mouth without permission. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
“Let’s go then,” Pete grabs his hand and leads him out the door. A warm buzz spreads from Ray’s fingers to his shoulder.
Pete introduces him to the band. They’re all polite, but don’t pay much mind. He and Pete are left to themselves in the back of the bus.
“Not as glamorous as everyone thinks,” Pete throws an old shirt off the bench seat. “Traveling with a bunch of guys is kinda gross.”
“S’fine,” Ray says. “My place doesn’t look much better, and we don’t have the traveling excuse.”
The bus starts moving; Ray stumbles and grabs hold of the wall to steady himself. Pete chuckles and pulls him onto the seat. Ray goes rigid as he lands half in Pete’s lap. He chokes out an apology, but Pete shakes his head. “I got you,” he slides an arm over Ray’s shoulders.
“You do this a lot?”
“Flirt with cute guys? Not as often as I’d like.”
Ray’s face goes hot. “No. I meant, ya know, bringing fans back.”
“Nope. You’re the first.”
“That can’t be true.”
“Been to a lot of cities, Ray.” Pete’s eyes gleam, “But never had a view this good.”
“See that, that has to come with practice.”
“I’m a songwriter, baby,” Pete’s drawl is hypnotic. “When I get a muse, the words start flowing.”
The fluttering in Ray’s chest rises and blocks his throat, not that he can think of anything to say anyway. He feels far away from his body, like this is a bizarre, blessed dream he’s been gifted, and any minute his alarm will go off and he’ll have to leave this for reality. But it doesn’t go away. Pete stays, sitting in front of him with a charming smile, and Ray becomes very aware of his mouth hanging open.
“Uh, thanks.” God, he sounds like an idiot. Thankfully, Pete seems to find it charming. He drapes an arm over Ray’s shoulders and leans in.
“So, how long you been a fan? Assuming you are a fan.” He smirks.
“Yeah, of course.”
“Just checking. Didn’t want to have put you on the spot if one of your friends dragged you along.”
“No, I dragged them,” Ray laughs. “I was actually really mad because they were messing around and I thought we were gonna be late.” It’s at this point that Ray realizes how embarrassing this story is. “But, we weren’t so… it doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe it’s for the best.” Pete’s fingertips tickle his shoulder. “I don’t know if I could’ve finished a single song with you in the front row.”
“I still don’t believe you don’t have practice with this.”
The bus lurches to a stop. “Let me buy you a drink, and I’ll have a song just for you by the end of the night.”
“I actually don’t really drink.” Ray’s cheeks tint pink again. “I just didn’t want to miss out.”
“Go without us,” Pete says without his eyes ever leaving Ray’s.
“Anything you do, you better do in your own bunk,” someone shouts back.
Ray can’t take it; he ducks his head and laughs. There’s no way they were implying what he thinks they were; it’d be a cold day in hell before Pete McVries wants him, except he’s acting like he does. And it’s real. Unless Ray cracked his head on the concrete while running into the venue, which he isn’t willing to rule out. Pete strokes the back of Ray’s neck, twiddling with the stray hairs. It’s real. It has to be. Even in Ray’s wildest fantasies, his brain could never conjure up something like this.
“So,” Pete says. “What do you do for work?”
They talk for hours. Ray learns things about Pete that no radio interview or magazine exclusive would ever be privy to. Pete’s lived an incredible life, and ridiculously, Ray can feel pieces clicking into place about certain songs he’s written. He tries to keep it in, but it slips out one time, and thankfully, Pete is pleased.
“That’s exactly what I meant.” his smile is blinding. “I can’t believe you put that together so quick.”
Ray shrugs. “I pay attention.”
Pete pays attention too. He’s thoroughly interested in Ray’s boringly normal life for reasons unknown to Ray. He can’t imagine being as invested as Pete is in a story about the faulty washing machine his landlord refuses to fix, but Pete nods along like it’s the best thing he’s heard all week.
“You really have dinner with your mom every week?”
“I do,” Ray nods. “She was real upset when I moved out; least I could do, really.”
“That’s great. Truly.”
“Yeah, a homemade meal is always worth it too,” Ray jokes.
“I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.” Pete frowns, “If I’ve ever had one.”
“You should come to ours sometime.” The words tumble out of Ray’s mouth before he can stop them. Pete freezes at the words. He looks at Ray with a sideways smile.
“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“I mean it.” Ray isn’t sure where this boldness is coming from, but he lets it flow from him. “I’d love to have you, and so would my mom; she loves feeding people.”
Pete’s arm curls tighter around Ray. “I should probably take you on a proper date before I meet your mom, don’t ya think?”
“You wanna,” Ray’s mouth goes dry. “You wanna go on a date?”
“I’m having a good time. I’d like to keep it going if you do.”
“Yeah, I would.” Ray has to bite his lip to keep from grinning like a fool. “What’d you have in mind?”
“I’ve got a show here again tomorrow night. You could come, get the VIP treatment,” he brushes Ray’s hair from where it’s fallen slightly into his eyes. “I’ll treat you to a nice dinner after.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Someone told us about a steakhouse on the riverfront. I’ll take you there, and after we’ll wander to our heart’s content, and I’ll kiss you under the light of the moon.”
“I gotta wait till tomorrow for you to kiss me?” Ray’s brain catches up to his mouth too late. “Sorry! Christ, I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Why not?” Pete’s eyes twinkle like stars. “Just say the word, Ray.”
“Pete?”
“Mhm.”
Ray’s eyes flick to Pete’s lips. “Kiss me?”
He does. It’s dizzying and otherworldly, definitely something worth writing a song about, Ray thinks. And it’s the last thing he thinks because Pete drags his blunt nails through his hair, and his mind goes fuzzy. Ray leans closer. He grabs Pete’s arms, and goddamn, his muscles are deliciously firm under his palms, even through the denim jacket. A rather pathetic noise escapes Ray’s lips, and Pete tugs him closer, closer, closer, until Ray is straddling his lap.
“Hey!” Someone shouts. “What’d we say about you keeping this in your bunk?”
Ray shoots off Pete’s lap. He doesn’t need to check his reflection to know he’s redder than a firetruck. Pete laughs and links their hands together.
“We weren’t doing nothing but a bit of kissing,” he insists.
“That’s how it always starts.”
Ray’s so embarrassed he can’t help but laugh. Pete laughs too. “No, no, nothing like that. Gonna take him out first at least.”
Ray’s buzzing all the way back to the hotel. Pete kisses him again before he leaves.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he mumbles against Pete’s lips.
“You bet.” He sneaks another kiss. “I’ll have a song for you and everything.”
Ray practically skips back to the room. He doesn’t even care that Hank and Art are definitely going to be more insufferable than ever before. All he can think about is Pete McVries, and if his song will match the one playing in his heart.