Wyatt lined up behind Quinn as Sam, the bar’s manager, started their introduction. When Ryder had booked the gig, he’d chosen Antone’s because it was live music in Austin—and had been for as long as Shaken Dirty had been playing. When they were young and green, they would have done anything for a gig here, and now that they were kicking off a whole new chapter, it seemed fitting that it start here, too.
The manager had been more than happy to book them under a fake name as long as he was able to reveal who they were at the beginning of their set—with time for the news to go out on social media and get people flocking to his club. They’d gone with it, largely because it would be stupid to try to hide their identities once they got under the spotlight anyway. It wasn’t like they were a band on the brink of breaking out anymore. They’d already broken out, and Ryder and Jared’s faces were recognizable to anyone who followed the rock—or gossip—scenes. Plus, making sure everyone knew it was Shaken Dirty that was playing was also a good way to gauge the mood of their fans, to see how they felt about the band after the disastrous canceling of their last tour.
“Because I’m about to let you in on a little secret,” Sam continued. “One nobody else in the whole world knows but the people in this club. Are you ready to hear it?”
The crowd murmured an assent, the sound starting low but swelling by the end. Wyatt could feel the electricity building in the air, could feel it running along his arms and the back of his neck. The crowd was waking up, looking around as if they knew something big was about to happen.
He closed his eyes, stretched out his neck, licked his lips. And tasted her on them.
Fuck. She tasted good.
He licked his lips again, savoring the taste of her even as he did his best to ignore the fact that his dick was rock hard and aching. Fuck Jared. If he’d waited five more minutes, Wyatt would have been buried balls deep in her as she made those strangled little sounds that drove him crazy. Fifteen minutes more, and they both would have been coming and he would have been thinking about that right now instead of how much he still wanted a fix.
“I asked, are you motherfuckers ready to hear it?” Sam yelled into the mic. “Are. You. Ready?”
The crowd grew louder, shouts ringing through the small space, bouncing off the walls and the relatively low ceiling.
For a second, just a second, he regretted not getting her name. Or her number. They could have ended the night the way they’d started it off—with his tongue deep inside of her as she came and came and came all around him.
But that wasn’t what he was here for, he reminded himself as he tried to get his dick under control. To keep the demons at bay, he could fuck himself raw after the set. But right now it was about the music. About the show. He’d screwed up enough to last a lifetime—he needed to make this gig count. Needed to show the others that he could still do the job they needed him to do.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Sam screeched. “Now, get ready to scream, people, because the truth is, Fly by Night is just a cover name so tonight’s band could sneak in here under the radar and surprise you guys with the best fucking show you’ve ever seen down here. Are you ready for that?”
The crowd got even louder, their screams echoing across the still empty stage and bouncing off the walls. The familiar nerves had his stomach clenching up.
“All right, then! Let me hear you as you help me welcome back to the stage for the first time in over two months, one of the greatest bands I’ve ever had the privilege of hearing live. Shaken Motherfucking Dirty!”
For a few seconds that just might have been the longest of his life, the audience was completely silent. No cheering, no screaming, nothing. Just crickets. Just quiet. Nerves getting worse—this wasn’t how he’d expected news of their first show since the forced hiatus to be received—Wyatt exchanged glances with the other guys as he tried to figure out if the crowd’s silence was good or bad. From the look on his bandmates’ faces, he wasn’t the only one confused, wasn’t the only one nervous about how the night was going to go.
But then the crowd erupted. Screams rocked the club, people whistled and stomped and shouted their approval until it felt like the whole place was about to bust at the seams. Or go up in flames. Or both.
Wyatt grinned at the others as relief swept through him. Now that was more like it. Definitely the reaction he’d been waiting—and praying—for.
They all grinned back at him before Ryder threw back his head and laughed like a maniac. He punched a fist in the air, slammed his other hand down on first Jared’s back and then Quinn’s.
Jared laughed, too, yelling, “Let’s tear this motherfucking place to the motherfucking ground!”