Hidden (Fragile Web 1)

Hidden (Fragile Web 1)
Second Edition
Mychael Black
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2024 Mychael Black

Michael laughed. “I can’t wait to hear you sing. Jason often said he wanted to bring in a soprano for some of Firestarter’s slower songs. We just never got the chance.”

They stepped through another doorway and into an open space. The walls were lined with thick foam to soundproof the room, and two couches sat against the walls on either side of the door. The band’s set dominated the room, though. Amps on both sides, a damn nice kit at the back that would’ve made Jesse Eldridge drool, and several mics. Hell, yes.

Out of another door toward the back, two guys emerged. They both grinned and started toward Michael and Treya.

“You must be Michael,” the short-haired one said, extending a hand. “I’m Sam McIntosh.”

“Good to meet you,” Michael said. He shook Sam’s hand, then turned to the other man. For a moment, he could only stare.

Slightly wavy, medium blond hair hung over the man’s shoulders, contrasting with his leather jacket. When the man took off his mirrored sunglasses, Michael swore his heart skipped a non-existent beat. Blue eyes held him spellbound.

“Scott Nixon,” the man said, breaking the silence.

Michael managed to kick his brain into gear and shook Scott’s outstretched hand. “Michael Grant…”

Scott smiled and, unless Michael had lost his mind, gave Michael a once-over that felt like a damn touch. “Pleasure.”

“Show us what you’ve got,” Treya announced.

Michael somehow tore himself from Scott’s gaze. He’d never, in his life, had someone catch his attention so much.

Definitely not a man.

* * *

Two hours later, they took a breather. Technically, it was supposed to be an audition. It had swiftly turned into a jam session. Treya blew Michael away with her voice and presence. No wonder the fans loved her.

Sam gave even Jesse Eldridge, Firestarter’s former drummer, a run for his money. The man could switch gears without missing a beat. Literally.

Then there was Scott.

Michael stepped outside for a cigarette while the band talked privately. He needed to talk to someone, desperately.

“Well? How’d it go?” Jason asked by way of greeting.

Michael exhaled, watching the smoke curl up into the air. “How did you know you’re gay?”

The silence lasted for several seconds.

“Um…”

Michael put out the cigarette. “Pretty much the answer I expected.”

“Wow,” Jason muttered. “Not something I ever thought I’d hear from you. To answer your question, I knew early on, middle school, when it occurred to me that I liked the boys’ locker room. A lot. So… who is he?”

“Scott Nixon,” Michael said. “Fragile Web’s guitarist.”