“Not a teddy bear,” the man growled.
“Max,” Ryder called out to him. “Come and meet Ely and stand down for Christ’s sake. You’re scaring the shit out of the poor kid.”
Grunt.
“Well Ely, you got more out of him than most do. And to think I’m marrying him,” Ryder laughed.
“What’re you doing here? I thought Stoli was filling in for you?” David asked Ryder.
“He is, but I was going stir crazy at home.” Ryder said.
“That’s putting it mildly,” Max the mountain said.
Ah, it speaks.
“Come on, Social’s taking the stage and I wanna watch,” Ryder said to the group, gesturing for us to follow him.
“Can you come with us?” Rhone asked me.
“I better not, I’ve been gone long enough. Text me when you’re done and I’ll catch up with you,” I reluctantly replied. I would have loved nothing more than to hang out with Rhone and his friends, but I needed to get back to work.
“Okay.” Rhone kissed me. “I’ll see you soon.”
Watching Rhone and his band on stage was beyond awesome. My first concert. My first kiss. My first…adult experience. All have been with Rhone. But I wanted more. So much more. When I agreed to work the event never for a minute did I imagine it being like this. That I would be the one to groupie out over a famed musician. While I’d like to say I’d known I was gay all my life, that wouldn’t be honest. Boys started piquing my interest in junior high, but the small, unaccepting town I lived in made it difficult to react to any wayward feelings I may have had, fleeting as they were. So I shut it down, and quickly before I wound up bloodied and bruised. Sure, since I moved to Vegas there had been opportunities, but I didn’t consider pursuing not one of them for even a second. Not until Rhone. Some of the offers were just downright crude, and I wasn’t curious enough to give any of them my virginity. Sex was never high up on my list of priorities. I’m a romantic at heart. A lover of romcoms and sappy happily ever afters, and I wanted mine. My roommates told me that’s not normal, but who’s to say what normal was. These feelings Rhone evoked had more than have my head spinning. Could he be the one?
Right this moment, I was literally surrounded by a sea of gorgeous bodies, male and female alike. Beautiful women dressed in clothes I wished I owned. Their make-up flawlessly applied, their hair long and full of body. Anytime I tried to curl mine, I failed. An hour later my hair was straight as an arrow. These men, muscular, tight jeans. T-shirts you could bounce a quarter off. While I know they were all exquisite specimens that should stir something inside me, none of them did. Was there something wrong with me? Glancing around, I eyed them curiously, out of sight so I didn’t enrage their partners. Hoping one of them would arouse me the way Rhone had so I could feel a sense of normalcy, but nothing happened. Yet the mere thought of Rhone gave me a wild rush that lands…well, you know. I couldn’t be more thankful for the heavy apron I was wearing, even if it had me sweating like an ice cube in a glass of lemonade on a warm August day.
“We need more tri-tip, Ely,” one of the wait staff said and just like that, reality steps back in. Reminding me of my place amidst this crowd that was so far out of my reach it’s laughable. Snagging the cart, I make the trek over to the oversized tent where our cooking equipment was set up, hearing the crowd cheer for the band playing as I walked. Wishing I could be a part of their melee, but alas I had to earn my keep. I long to be my own man, living my dreams as these musicians were. Cooking for those who would appreciate it. Not that anyone had complained here, but there were only so many dishes you can cook that will keep in this type of atmosphere. I wonder if Rhone would enjoy a homecooked meal? I mentally added that to my wish list of things I wanted to experience, all of which I hope would be with Rhone. A quiet, candlelit dinner for two that I’d worked all day to prepare. I had all these ideas running through my head, recipes to create, but my roommates were tired of being my guinea pigs. Basically, I think they were tired of me being around given that I’m not into the same things as they were. I just need to get through school and land a job, even as a sous chef to get my foot in the door. Hopefully, that would pay me enough to finally get my own place even if it’s only a studio apartment.
A sense of nostalgia washed over me, transporting me back to the farm. Selecting fresh herbs, fruits and vegetables from our many gardens. Raising each delicate piece, breathing in its aromatic wonder. There’s nothing better than cooking with home-grown goodness. One day I hoped to have a garden or greenhouse of my own. I’d even settle for a little windowsill-based herb garden. Anything to tamp the itch inside. Gardening was calming for me, helped with the anxiety. Tending to the vast array of animals we had, wasn’t so much my thing. I enjoyed feeding and grooming them, loved petting them but mucking a stall was something I would prefer not to ever have to do again.
It still hurt to this day that my mother never stood up for me, didn’t come after me and hadn’t reached out either. I know she wasn’t one for social media, but a quick Facebook search and she’d know I was okay. Maybe she’s already done that? But why not contact me? Send a simple PM just to check in. Tell me she still loved me… I miss her and the kids. The sound of their laughter when we would play together. Dancing around, building snowmen in the winter. My father and our homophobic town were the downfall of what could’ve been a great childhood. We worked hard but lived off the land. If I hadn’t learned a love for cooking from my mother, I don’t know where I’d be today. Without a dream, I’d have no reason to try as hard as I have. No reason to…be.
There have been so many times I’ve picked up the phone to call home. Home. There’s that word again. I lived in a house, but my father never really made it a home, at least not for me. I bet they still have the landline. I knew the number by heart. I just wanted to talk to my brothers and sisters, make sure they’re doing okay. Not that I could do anything if they weren’t, but I just needed to know. I was so afraid my parents wouldn’t let me talk to them; that I’ll turn back into the coward I was the moment my father lashed out at me. Curling into myself. I wasn’t strong enough, mentally to take him on. Not yet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Derek, the lead singer for Maiden Voyage, bellowed into the mic. The fans fucking loved him. He was an idol to every front man. Hell, even as a drummer, I idolized him. The way he handled himself, with grace and dignity. Never in the tabloids, nor was he ever rude or condescending when others asked him questions. Derek would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it.
Maiden had already played four songs and the guys were drenched with sweat. Stoli seemed to have found his second wind, after already playing with his own band and now covering for Ryder with Maiden. We were off to the side jamming out, with Ryder and Max standing nearby. Ryder anxiously shifted from foot to foot, as he watched his band play without him. I’m sure he was jonesing to be out there. It would drive me bat shit crazy to sit in the sidelines and watch my band play without me. Chase, Seltzer, David and I knew every Maiden and Social song, seemed the crowd did as well, and it was great to kick back and enjoy their shows. We caught them off and on in Europe, but we were so busy checking everything out that we hadn’t taken the time to sit and watch either of their sets from start to finish.