have some privacy.
The house itself was simply precious. He loved its brick hardscape, water wheel in the front yard, gourmet kitchen and swimming pool (those were the things that sold him), and then there was the other stuff like the three bedrooms and two bathrooms and the immaculate sunroom. Oh, and the gazebo and tennis courts (yes the rock star played tennis). So yeah, he definitely had the best house. Josh supposed he shouldn’t mind if the guys slept over – what did he need with three bedrooms? Still it was hilarious how they never even used them. Hardly anyone ever even ventured upstairs.
The kitchen was so airy and bright with natural light that poured in through the patio doors. He also had a full view of the awesome pool right from where he made his morning coffee. The kitchen was by far his favorite room of the house. There was also a separate little house a few yards away from the pool. It was teeny-tiny, but Josh loved it. Every so often, one of the guys used it to bang a groupie. It kind of grossed Josh out and he’d been meaning to fumigate the place. Oh well, he thought as he screwed the cap back on the asprin bottle. These were not bad problems…
He looked around the house. It seemed so normal and perfect. It was the kind of house one could raise a family in, or just gain some peace of mind. It was almost laughable that it belonged to a rock star, or, well, band, apparently. Fuck it, right now all he cared about was this morning’s martini, which he’d personally named “Hair Of The Dog.” It was basically a pina colada smoothie. Before Josh Devin was a rock star, he was a bartender. It had been a long hard road – the sexual abuse he suffered at the hands of a babysitter when he was nine, the fights he had with his mom when he became a teenager and blamed her for it, moving out at sixteen, living on the streets, swearing he’d never go back, getting a job, crashing with friends, paying friends back and getting his own apartment, finally seeing the wow-you-ARE-really-talented look in their eyes when he played his first gig at The Whiskey. All doubts were erased. Then suddenly he was on the cover of Rolling Stone and his mom was trying to get in touch with him, wanting money. Other family tried to get in touch with him too. “Josh! Josh, how you been man, Wow! Can’t believe you made it!” He shut them all out just like they shut him out before he became famous. And now here you were in front of a thousand dollar EZ blender. He snickered for a minute as he gathered cold fresh pieces of fruit on the cutting board. He dumped it all along with some ice into the blender and pushed the button. The noise caused a vintage issue of Playboy to fly up from the couch. It must have been resting on Stokey’s chest.
Stokey muttered something that came out in a word-jumble. “Where…mah…” He looked around the house, confused. Josh couldn’t
help but mock him because he sounded like a baby.
“Bah wah, gah-gah-goo-goo?” Josh snarled as he lifted his morning cocktail to his lips, his black eyes wide and alert, his jet-black hair wet from a morning shower. Stokey wondered how someone who drank and screamed all the time could look so fresh-faced.
Stokey’s hair had taken a turn for the worse. It was worse than Mickey Rourke’s hair in The Wrestler. Stokey was the oldest member of the band at thirty-six, and had more than earned his right to sleep passed noon. He drummed for many bands around New York in his younger twenties, flying on the coattails of the ‘90s grunge era, before moving to L.A. where he kept playing and working odd jobs until he finally ran into Josh, who had what it took to make his band famous. There was something raw about him, and Stokey knew that even when it was rough in the beginning, their hard work was going to pay off. Birth was twenty-four, and seemed to be just as carefree before the band got famous as he was now. Lyle was twenty-one and cared more about what Josh was wearing than how much money the band was making. Josh was twenty-seven and…taking it day by day at this point. A part of him was very grounded, his Gemini twin, he supposed. His own better half. The other half was supposed to be unpredictable, dangerous, keep this thing exciting…
“Sorry, but when you crash on someone’s couch, eventually you will be woken up by the sound of daily life,” Josh reminded.
“Daily life…” Stokey muttered the words like he didn’t know their meaning.
“What fucking time is it?” he asked, slowly detaching himself from the sofa, peeling off a magazine page stuck to his arm.
“One,” Josh said.
“One? Its only one in the afternoon?” Stokey got up and trudged over towards the stairs. “Going back to bed – wake me up by six.”
Josh smirked, shook his head and took two Hair Of The Dogs out to the pool. He looked at Birth who was lying in a lawn chair so still he might be sleeping. Then he moved that head of shaggy blonde hair around.
“Are you serious?” Birth laughed that gentle sexy laugh of his when he saw the cocktails. “No coffee? You’re just goin for it, huh?”
“No, there’s coffee,” Josh said, relaxed. Birth had that effect on him. Josh watched as Birth looked over his shoulder at the kitchen, as if going for the coffee would be like climbing Mount Everest.
“Would you like me to go get you some coffee?” Josh asked, part bothered and part amused.
“Nah, its okay, I don’t want to be fully awake yet, man.” Birth stretched his arms and reached for the drink, taking a sip. “Holy shit!” he said.
“You like?” Josh asked.
“Uh, yeah.” He continued to flaunt a silly grin as he placed the coffee back down on the plastic table next to him. “I dunno Josh, I think you make a better bartender than a singer.”
Josh threw a towel at him. “Fuck off,” he laughed. After a minute of trying to fight it off, Josh’s eyes traveled up and down Birth’s body, which was only covered with a tiny little towel around his waist.
“What happened to your clothes?” Josh laughed. Birth looked down at his own amazing slender body. Birth was perfect, the perfect pretty boy. With his blonde shag, cute little nose and big blue eyes he could be an Abercrombie model, but when they performed, his somewhat pristine appearance took on a punk look. He was the main reason so many girls flocked to their gigs. Josh attracted the dangerous, rebellious teenagers who dreamt of one day being just like him. Stokey? Well, it was the usual drummer thing with him. He never got the recognition he deserved. And then there was Lyle, their fragile, beautiful guitar player who confused girls who found him attractive because he came off as feminine, and guys didn’t know what to think of him either. Here he was in a punk band with a singer who cut himself open on stage almost every night – physically or emotionally or both – and lurched about like a monster, and yet Lyle was this fragile thing, like a dandelion caught in Santa Ana wind. Josh was the wind…why did he like Josh?
Josh liked Birth.
“I don’t know, man,” Birth responded to Josh’s inquiry about his clothes, mildly amused. He always seemed mildly amused by something, like someone was always whispering a funny joke in his ear. Josh loved that about him – Birth’s constant rascally mood. Birth had perfect teeth. Just when one thought Birth couldn’t be sexier, he smiled and all competition was erased. He had a gorgeous smile of pearly whites. L.A. was full of pretty boys – tanned, fit surfer dudes, pretty rocker boys, and of course the models/actors/whatever else they did for money. Yet Birth seemed to be ahead of them all – and he didn’t so much as try.
“Maybe in the other little house,” Birth said, his arm lazily dropping to point out that house he used to fuck in, the little fuck shack. That was the thing, Birth was straight – this was the other thing Josh struggled with on a daily basis.
“Hey, man,” Birth said, sounding as though he was slowly coming alive from last night’s drinking binge. “I gotta say…I found Stokey’s hemorrhoid meds next to my toothbrush this morning, and that was disgustooooh.” Birth laughed at himself. “He stays here too much, man, you should say something.”
Josh stared at Birth in surprise, thinking he was joking because Stokey stayed here no more or no less than Birth or Lyle.
“Oh, and the fuck lamp is missing,”
Birth added, sounding quite distressed. The fuck lamp was this absurd thing they’d bought when they did a show in Vegas. It looked like a lava lamp and had a dildo stored inside it.
“Well, that’s the kind of thing you don’t want back if someone took it, I’m guessing.”
“I know that,” Birth said, rather cocky. “I just remember when we got it – things were different then – like, exciting. We were just startin out, you know?”
“Yeah.”
They’re still exciting…right? Josh looked at Birth. Was Birth burned out already? Was he going to go off and do some kind of crappy solo album? Was he going to get all douchy and John Mayor-ish on them?
Birth stood up and the towel simply fell from his jutted hips to the warm cement. He stood there as Josh stared at him, at his dick. What was astounding was how Birth didn’t seem to care. What was going on here? Their eyes met before Josh looked back down at Birth’s amazing cock. There it was, a copious slab of meat in the sunshine. Birth did not seem to mind Josh’s gawking. He watched as Birth turned jumped into the pool, making an impressive splash.
A crush was a dangerous thing. If Josh acted on it, he knew it could ruin a lot of things, maybe even the band, the way that splash just ruined the stillness of the water. But