Free Ruin Porn by SJD Peterson, S.A. McAuley Page A

they’d been through two countries and seen very little of either. Maybe they wouldn’t see much of Amsterdam after all.
    The goth girl gave a sheepish frown when she saw the line. “I snapchatted my picture with you, then tweeted it with the Rezors hashtag. I did not think this many would show up.”
    “Not a problem, love,” Miah murmured to her, then bellowed into the growing crowd, “Rez loves Amsterdam!” to roaring approval.
    “This is so surreal,” Evin said to no one in particular as he was pulled into another photo by Miah. It wasn’t until that fan had moved on that Ev realized he had no idea if he’d smiled in the pic—or any of the others so far. He was sure he was going to look like a tool in every one of them. Shit!
    He leaned in close to Miah. “These aren’t going to be posted everywhere, are they?”
    “Just on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook”—he shrugged and gave a glowing smile just in time for yet another pic that likely caught Evin in yet another grimace—“you know, the usual. People will tag you if you want to see them.”
    “I don’t have Twitter or Instagram.”
    “Yeah, you do. Sid set it up for you.”
    Evin croaked. “Shit.”
    Another fan stepped up and pointed her camera to take a pic. “Smile!”
    This time he attempted a grin but probably looked more like a child predator on the loose. He needed more time to prepare. He wasn’t ready.
    He gripped Miah’s arm and pulled him in. “It’s just… I’m… I’m just an ordinary guy.”
    “I’m not,” Miah said with a haughty twist of his lip. “Bring on the boobs!”
    Evin felt something hit his chest, and he looked down to find a black Sharpie at his feet.
    Miah’s left hand was full of tit while the right one scrawled a heart, then Miah’s name. Miah kissed the voluptuous redhead on the cheek before turning back to Evin. “You’re a rock star. Sign some fucking boobs.”
    “It really is easier if you just sign them and move on,” Ritchie offered, getting between him and Miah. “This whole thing used to freak me the fuck out too. Telling you it gets easier is a lie. The bigger we get, the weirder this whole thing feels. Like, why does anyone give a shit enough to want to meet me? I bang sticks on stuff.”
    That phrase stopped Evin cold. He’d heard Ritchie say that before—in YouTube interviews Evin used to watch in his bedroom as he followed their rise to fame. Holy shit. “I used to be one of these fans.”
    Ritchie nodded. He got it. “Whole new perspective, man. Just try to show the same appreciation you would have wanted if it was you waiting for an autograph.”
    Evin thought about it. “I can do that.”
    “Is your boy still freaking out, Myer?” Miah called out.
    “Nah, man. He’s cool.” Ritchie winked at him and went back to giving all of his attention to the next person that stepped in front of him.
    Someone behind Evin yelled out, “Who the hell are you?” He turned toward a scrawny man with a pirate ship tattooed on this chest and a leather vest.
    Finn appeared at Evin’s side and clapped his palm over Evin’s chest. “This is the luckiest summabitch in the world. He gets to see your beautiful country with us.”
    Evin extended his hand. “I’m Evin Rene. Rez’s new bass player.”
    The man rolled a toothpick in his mouth. “Are you a musician?”
    When Evin glanced at Finn, he was holding back a laugh. Evin pulled his hand back and wiped the sweat off onto his jeans. “Well, yeah. I guess.”
    “You guess?” The man poked a bony finger at Evin. “You’re a fake bass player.”
    “I’m a fake bass player,” Evin repeated with deliberate slowness.
    Next to him, Finn erupted into guffaws and yanked Evin away from the rest of the guys. “Most of them aren’t assholes. Sid just texted Ritchie to let him know he’s on his way with an extraction team to help us get to the venue.”
    Evin jerked when Finn slapped him on the ass, and to Evin’s even greater surprise, the