Free The Rider List: An Erotic Romance by J.T. Charles Page A

reminded of why we chose them to open back then. I’m on beer number three when they finish their short set and it’s time for the next band.
    I’m sitting at the bar when I hear my name.
    “Evan?” It’s a guy’s voice.
    Shit. I turn in the direction of his voice. It’s Chris, the drummer for Three Figures.
    “Holy shit, dude. What’s up?” He extends his hand and I shake it.
    “Just came to see you guys.”
    “Really? What are you doing in Charleston?”
    It’s the last thing I want to talk about.
    Before I can say anything, he says, “Hey, I saw what happened in Indianapolis.”
    “You saw it?”
    He nods. “YouTube. Someone in the audience caught it on video. Didn’t look good at all.”
    “Didn’t feel good.” This is the first I’m hearing of anyone having video or pictures of the incident.
    “I bet,” he says, edging closer to the bar. “How are you?”
    “I’m okay.”
    “They never said what it was. I mean, I’m not trying to pry or anything.”
    “Yeah, it’s all over. I don’t really like to talk about it.”
    He slides a ten across the bar and tells the bartender he’d like a Bud Light. “Understood, sorry I asked.”
    “No problem.” I need to get off this topic. “You guys sound great.”
    “Ah, thanks. We’ve been working really hard. We have a ton of new material and we’re trying it all out this summer. Seeing what people respond to. You know how it is.”
    I sip the last of my beer. It’s warm. Time to wrap this up.
    Chris lightly hits me on the shoulder with his forearm. “Hey, if you need any of our leftover songs…ha ha ha…I’m kidding.”
    I manage a laugh. He has no idea the nerve he’s hit. But I brush it off.
    “Listen,” I say, “I’m here to get away for a while—”
    “Writing?”
    “Yeah,” I lie. “But I haven’t told anyone where I am. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention to anyone that you saw me.”
    Chris looks at me blankly for a few seconds as the bartender hands him his beer and change. “Not even the guys?”
    I shake my head no. “I’m trying to stay under the radar. You’re actually the first person to recognize me.”
    He laughs. “No shit? That’s wild. I knew it was you right away. But sure, I’ll keep this between you and me.”
    He holds up his beer bottle, tilting it a little. I lift mine and we clink bottles. I sip and there’s nothing but a little bit of warm foam. It really is time to go.
    “I’d appreciate it. Gotta run,” I say.
    “Hey, we’re playing here in a couple of weeks for the big July Fourth bash. Think you can make it?”
    “I’ll try.”
    He extends his hand, I take it, and he wraps his other arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll keep the secret. Just don’t forget about us on the next tour.”
    Free of his hug, I assure him I won’t. “You got it.”
    I’m walking toward the door when I see the girl who threw the pick back to Keenan. She’s coming out of the bathroom. I recognize her from the other night. She’s the one who was sitting with Audrey at the rooftop bar. She holds eye contact with me, but I break it and slip out the door.
    Being recognized by Chris has me a little worried I’m going to blow my cover.
    During the walk home, my thoughts shift from concern about Audrey’s friend recognizing me and putting it all together, to thoughts of whether Audrey was at The Windjammer tonight.
    If she was, I wish I’d seen her and I really wish I could have brought her home with me.
    I get home to the empty place and get my laptop. I need to check YouTube for that video Chris mentioned. Jesus, do I even want to see it?
     
    . . . . .
     
    We were doing a sold-out show in Indianapolis, in front of almost fifteen thousand people. It wasn’t anything new. I’d played shows that large before, especially over the last three years as the band got more recognition and we had a string of hits.
    But something wasn’t right that night. I could feel it backstage. I