Musical Monday: Don't even try to boil water

 

On this Musical Monday, I'd like us to take a little trip back to my first rocker romance. Notice, I said rockers, but not rockstars. These guys were still struggling to break out, and while I have mentioned the band from time to time in other books, the one thing I've never done was have them pop up at Rocktoberfest. I've thought about it, in fact, typing this up is just making me think about it more.

I love revising old characters. There are always new arcs to discover, even after years away from that particular universe. I always try to leave a window open for a new story in an established world though sometimes the little chaos gremlins that are my characters decide to slither in through the cracks instead. 

A few examples of that are in Koda, in Love in Shimmering Chartreuse talks about missing his friend, a musician named Dez. 

The very Dez featured in Tattered Angel. 

Ironically enough, Dez, at one point, talks about wanting to introduce Koda to another artist friend of his, only this individual's medium is metal and sculpture art. 

Have you guessed who it is yet?

Did you say Nash from Dust Trail Blues?

If you did you'd have been right.

Mark, from Desolation Angel, appears in two chapters of my debut book, Guitars and Cages. And guess who else has not made a Rocktoberfest appearance yet?

Asher. 

As much of a fan as he was of Desolation's Music and the friendship he had with those guys, I know he'll make it out to the desert if they ever do. So maybe, just maybe, this year's Rocktoberfest book has a few characters playing peek-a-boo in it. If that does wind up to be the case, you'll learn about it first right here on Rainbow Lyrics and Mellow Mushrooms. 

Dare gets lost in music only he can hear. Since childhood, it would roll through his mind, soft at first, then loud, drowning out everything until the rest of the world melted away. When he comes back to himself he has notes and lyrics, the base of the songs his band plays all over the city. But some days he finds himself wondering what good it did to have talent when the rest of his life is such a mess. His music is his passion, but it interferes with simple things, like learning to drive or cooking a meal without catastrophe.

All Sionn has ever wanted was Dare’s attention, his full attention, and that won’t happen as long as he continues having his ‘musical dreams’ so the stubborn keyboard player is determined to keep his attraction a secret. Too bad it’s impossible to keep anything secret when you live with your three best friends. When Sionn’s temper reaches a breaking point following another near disaster in the kitchen, he sets Dare on a question to ‘fix’ himself in the hopes of gaining the love of the man he adores.

He paced while dinner cooked, refusing to let himself spend too much time thinking about what the guys might say when they heard the latest news. He really hoped that Mark would talk to Tommy, and soon, because they all needed to be on the same page to practice as well as head in and record. They needed the energy they all generated together, and that wouldn’t happen if something was standing between them, pulling them all apart.

Dare thought about the Sunday he and Sionn had planned, knowing it would have to be scrapped so the band could work on their music. That sucked. He’d really been looking forward to spending the day wandering, just the two of them. Maybe they could steal a few hours, a break of sorts from practice. Yeah, that could work. They could slip away together to take in the graffiti and the architecture, ride the subway across the city, and walk through China Town. That would be amazing in the snow.

Somewhere in all that planning, the music drifted in, loud and crashing, faster than normal, and Dare was swept away on the tide of it until pain cut through the music and Dare found himself blinking at a pot angrily boiling over. Dare looked down, saw the thick sauce on his left arm and wiped it off with a dish towel, hissing at the feel of the cloth against his skin. It hurt. A searing pain covered a fourth of his forearm. He hastened to lower the heat. There was mess on the stove and down the sides of the pot, and he wiped it away. Each movement of his arm made him wince and soon he couldn’t stand it anymore. He grabbed some ice, wrapped it in a paper towel, and pressed it to the deep red mark that had already started to form.

God that hurt. It was probably going to blister, and then the guys would want to know why. He didn’t want to tell them he’d drifted off in the kitchen again. They all worked late; they should at least be able to count on a hot meal that they didn’t have to cook themselves when they came home. His good mood vanished, and his shoulders slumped as he cursed himself for getting lost in the dreams again, frustrated that he couldn’t just be normal like everyone else. Dejected and feeling useless, he made sure the pot was simmering low before dashing to his room and pulling on a long-sleeved T-shirt. It was just a little thing, he told himself as he was covering it up, bitterness creeping in. A little thing that burned and hurt like hell. 

Desolation Angel can be found here!