Code red, p.18
Code Red, page 18
We spent the day at the stadium doing stage rehearsals and sound checks, and after a group session in the gym, it was an early dinner and we called it a night. Miami was hot and humid, and after partying the night before and working hard all day, everyone was beat and turned in early.
I knocked on Maddox’s door just after nine. He smiled like the cat just about to eat the canary as I entered, and he locked the door behind me. “I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he purred. “Or, more to the point, what you did to me last night and what you can do to me again tonight.”
I pulled a seat out at the table and sat down. “About that . . .”
He stopped; his smile faded. “What about it? Oh Christ, you’re here to tell me you’re done, aren’t you?”
“I’m done?” I asked, quite frankly a little stunned. We’d had such a good day. “No. Why would you think that?”
“You have that apologetic look on your face. That look that says this is for your own benefit, even though it’s not.”
I stood up and took his face in my hands. “I’m not done with you, not by a long shot, okay?” He nodded, though there was a genuine vulnerability in his eyes that hurt to see. “Believe me, Maddox, last night was . . . special to me.”
He smiled then, the kind that sparked light in his eyes. It didn’t last long. “There’s a but coming.”
He really did know me. “But I don’t think we should have a repeat of last night tonight, or any night before a concert.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I don’t want you to be sore when you’re on stage. You give two hundred percent on that stage, and I don’t want to risk you overexerting yourself. If you’re a bit sore or whatever, then—”
“Oh my god, you’re serious. Roscoe, I’m fine.”
He was affronted and possibly a little offended, which was not what I wanted at all. I took his hand and sat on the dining chair, pulling him into my lap. He pouted a little, though he did put his arm around my neck. “Listen, please. I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I began. “But we need to be responsible. We can’t give anyone a reason to suspect anything to begin with, but we also can’t give anyone cause to separate us. And it’ll just be the night before each concert, that’s all. And that doesn’t mean we can’t do anything else, baby. I can think of a dozen different ways to get you off without fucking you into the mattress.”
Maddox’s smile was slow spreading. “Hold on, wait up.” He wiggled his bony ass on my lap. “Two things. First one, I want to hear more about the dozen different ways to get me off. Honestly, you probably should have just led with that and saved us both some trouble. And second . . . you called me baby.”
I laughed. “Did I? I don’t remember that.”
Keeping his arm around my shoulder, he straddled me and forced my face up so he could kiss me. “Are you taking it back?”
I smiled against his lips. “Not at all . . .”
He pinched my chin between his thumb and finger. “Say it again.”
“Which part?”
He pinched my chin harder and rolled his hips, grinding himself on my crotch. “You know which part. Say it again.”
I tried to kiss him but he pulled back just far enough so I couldn’t, so I gripped his hips instead. “I can make you come a dozen different ways.”
He snarled. “Wrong answer. I mean, it’s not wrong, but it’s not the answer I’m talking about and you know it. So maybe I’ll decline your offer and you can leave.” He went to stand up but I grabbed him and held him tight.
“Baby,” I said, smiling up at him. “I can get you off in ways you’ve never imagined, baby. I could kiss you all night long, baby. I wanna sleep in your bed, in your arms, all night long, baby.”
His smile was possibly the most beautiful, most genuine I’d seen on him in all the years I’d known him. He leaned down and kissed me. “You’re lucky, Roscoe. Right answer.”
“I tried.”
He kissed me again. “Hmm. Now . . . what about this dozen ways to get me off that I’ve never imagined. I’m very interested in hearing about those.”
I gripped his hips and stood up, carrying him. He laughed as I threw him onto the bed and crawled up his body. “Okay, so,” I said, undoing his jeans. “This is number one.”
It was hotter the next day than it had been all week, and to make matters worse, it was concert day. There’d been measures put in place for the crowd, water stations and misters to name a few, and we’d made sure we had extra ice packs, water, and electrolyte pouches for the band and stage crew.
It was going to be brutal.
The dressing room and green room were all air conditioned, but directly backstage was not. It was a stadium so the stage was open to the elements, and even though it was an evening concert, it was still far too hot and humid.
The call was made not to run through a full dress rehearsal, and there were some last minute changes to the choreography. They needed to cut their exertion down. Those boys could, in a three-hour concert, dance and run the equivalent to an eight-mile race.
“Be careful tonight,” I whispered to Maddox. They were all dressed and ready to go, we could hear the roar of the crowd, and I was helping him with his earpiece. “It’s hotter than hell out there.”
He gave me a nod. “Yes, Dad.”
“If you want me to play daddy, that means I get to spank you,” I murmured, and he barked out a laugh. “Don’t overdo it. Pace yourself.”
He grinned. “I’m sorry, what was that? You said the words daddy and spank, and I got sidetracked.”
I sighed and went to help Wes with the cord on his earpiece. “Take it easy tonight,” I said, aiming for them all to hear. I had to lift the back of Wes’s shirt and feed the cord through. Why on earth he’d put his shirt on first, I’d never know. But Maddox was soon beside me, reaching up Wes’s shirt and pulling the cord through. He shot me a very quick look that I couldn’t read. Was he pissed off? Was he worried what others might think? I helped all the bandmates with their gear, with their outfit changes, with whatever they needed help with. It was my job.
I could feel someone’s eyes on me, and when I looked up, Jeremy was watching. He was kind of smirking, a bit surprised, maybe. Until Maddox shot him a glare too, and then Jeremy began to sing a not too familiar song. It certainly wasn’t one of theirs. He danced all sexy-like and Luke hollered, “Sing it, queen,” and Maddox shoved Jeremy so hard he almost fell. But they all laughed and were soon hyping each other up as they walked through the corridors to the stage entrance.
Amber, Ryan, and I followed, of course. Ryan was discussing something with the stage crew manager; Amber was giving the boys final instructions about the new set breaks.
I was trying to place that damn song . . . I couldn’t really concentrate over the noise and the voices, and the damn heat back here was stifling. But the way Jeremy danced, the higher pitch, the catchy tune . . .
It took me a second.
It was “Jealous” by Beyonce.
Jealous.
Was Maddox jealous because I lifted Wes’s shirt?
Holy shit.
The roar of the crowd got my attention, and I snapped out of my own head in enough time to watch the five of them take their place on the elevated platform to rise up through the stage. The crowd went off like a sonic boom.
“They’re not going to take it easy,” Amber yelled over the noise.
I shook my head. “No, they won’t. Jeremy and Maddox in particular.”
She made a less-than-impressed face, her brow beaded with sweat. It was hot back here. Too damn hot. They’d brought in industrial-sized fans that kept the air moving, but it was hardly enough. The stage crew were already red-faced and sweating; they ran, lifted, pushed, carried non-stop behind the scenes, and when the first set was done, they did it in triple time.
The boys came off stage for a change of shirts and much needed drinks, dripping with sweat like they’d been put under a hose. I handed them each an energy gel pouch. “Have these.”
They washed them down with bottles of water in between getting wet shirts peeled off, patted dry, and fresh shirts put on. Wardrobe, hair, and make-up staff moved around them, maneuvered them like mannequins, and with the precision of a race car pit crew, they were back on stage.
Amber, Ryan, and I watched them on the live-feed screens for the whole next set. They still gave one hundred percent, they sang and danced, and despite the heat and humidity, the crowd roared and cheered.
But I could tell it was taking its toll. Jeremy bent over with his hands on his knees after one song, Blake was flat on his back, and Luke helped him to his feet and gave him a bit of a cuddle. All the Bluke fans screamed, but the truth was Blake was struggling.
And Maddox . . . well, he danced harder and sang harder than any of them, like he always did. He was flushed, his hair was drenched, his wet shirt clung to him, giving the entire stadium audience a pretty visual. The white fabric didn’t leave much to the imagination.
The crowd fucking loved it.
They drank all their bottles of water, spraying the crowd as they continued to dance and sing, but at the end of the second set when they came off, all five of them almost collapsed. I passed out more of the energy gel pouches as they were wiped down. They looked like they’d all climbed out of a swimming pool, that’s how wet they were.
We had ice packs on the backs of their necks, and the hair crew didn’t even bother. Make-up was more of a clean-up at this point, and fresh T-shirts were pulled over their heads.
“You have to slow down,” Ryan told them. “Forget the choreography. Just keep it calm. You’ve got five songs to go.”
The five of them had their heads down, their shoulders heaved with ragged breaths. I grabbed a towel and patted down Maddox’s hair and the back of his neck. “Take it easy,” I said. I meant it for all of them, though for Maddox in particular. “Just sing. Slow it down.”
“They came to see us perform,” Maddox replied. “They didn’t pay full price for half a show.”
I dabbed a line of sweat rolling down from his temple. “They didn’t pay to see you pass out.”
“Professional performers know how to adapt to circumstances,” Amber said.
I managed to half dab Wes’s forehead when Maddox pulled the towel from my hand. He ran it over his face and stood up before he tossed it to Wes. “Five songs. We just gotta get through five songs. Come on, guys. Let’s do this.”
They each got to their feet and put their hands in the middle. “Atrous,” they said in unison, though it was hardly a war cry.
Five songs may as well have been five hundred.
Of course, they didn’t slow down, they didn’t stop dancing. If anything, Maddox danced harder, sang louder, like he had something to prove. They gave one hundred percent and he gave 110.
But they got to the fifth song. The last song. I don’t know how, but they did. Jeremy pulled his shirt off over his head to a massive roar and threw it into the crowd. They waved goodbye as the crowd cheered, they stood on the center elevator about to disappear into the stage. Like they always did, like they’d done a thousand times.
The stage lowered and the five of them were doubled over, resting hands on their knees. Jeremy fell to his ass, panting, sweating like I’d never seen. Maddox stood to his full height, turned, and swayed. Drenched and red-faced, he made eye contact with me. He reached for a pole, missed it completely, and crumpled to the floor.
I ran to him and rolled him onto his back, and he groaned. His eyes were half closed, he was pale, his hair stuck to his face. “Maddox,” I said, gently tapping his face. He stirred and moaned. Heat was radiating off him but his skin felt cool to the touch.
“I need water and ice,” I yelled. “Now!”
I lifted him off the platform and laid him on the ground, right there, backstage in front of everyone. He was dead weight, offered no resistance. His head fell back, and his arms were limp. I tapped his face again. “Maddox.”
Amber was there with ice packs and wet towels. She put an ice pack on his forehead, and I shoved one up under his shirt to lay it on his chest.
Maddox stirred and tried to sit up. I put my hand on his chest. “Stay there,” I urged.
Jeremy was suddenly beside me. “Is he okay?”
“We need to cool him down,” I said. Christ, it was hot back here. And there were too many people standing around watching, and there was no freaking air. “We need to get him into the air conditioning.”
Without waiting, I picked him up and carried him through the crowd of worried onlookers.
I heard Amber yell, “Where is the fucking doctor?”
I don’t know who she yelled at, but she was right. He was our team doctor and he was nowhere in sight.
Wes held the door open to the dressing room and I ran in, laying Maddox on the floor. It was so much cooler in here already, but we needed to get Maddox’s core temperature down before this heat exhaustion became heat stroke.
“We need to get his boots and socks off,” I said, and Blake and Luke made quick work of them. With my hand at the back of Maddox’s neck, I half sat him up and pulled his sopping wet shirt up and over his head, feeding his arms through it like a parent does with a toddler. I gently laid him back down and put the ice pack back on his chest, and Ryan was there now with an ice pack on Maddox’s forehead and one under his neck. I unbuttoned his pants about to pull them off when Hardwick raced in, coming to his knees beside me. He was a nice guy, about forty, and looked a bit like Denzel Washington.
But he should have been here already, and I was about to rip him a new asshole until I saw him. He looked like he’d been in the same swimming pool as Maddox.
“Sorry, we’ve got crew members down as well,” he said, not taking his eyes off Maddox. He was feeling for a pulse. “Is he coherent? Has he been talking?”
“’M okay,” Maddox mumbled. His breathing was still labored, like he couldn’t get enough air.
“Should I call an ambulance?” I asked, assuming someone hadn’t already. I looked around for anyone else. “Has someone called an amb—”
“No hospital,” Maddox said, his voice quiet. He swallowed hard. “I’ll be fine. Just need a second.”
“Maddox,” I said, aiming for calm. “You’re not fine.”
He opened his eyes and focused on me. “I said no hospital.”
“He’s okay,” Wes joked. “He’s arguing with Roscoe. He’ll be fine.”
“Maddox, I need you to drink this,” Hardwick said, putting a bottle of electrolytes to his lips. He propped up Maddox’s head to help him drink, and then Julio, the physical therapist, appeared on the other side of Maddox. He had a medic bag with him and I figured a few years at university studying human anatomy and biology made him more of an expert than me, so I got out of their way.
I stood up and moved to Maddox’s feet, looking on for what felt like an eternity. Wes, Luke, and Blake were looking on too, as were Amber and Ryan. Jeremy stood beside me. He looked wrecked too: hot, drenched, and exhausted but concerned about his best mate. “Will he be okay?”
I met his gaze. “How about we get you guys cooled down too.”
“I’m okay,” he began to say.
Hardwick looked up at him, then pointed to the four bandmates. “Boots and socks off, shirts off,” he barked. “Sit down, drink electrolytes, and sip water. Now, or you’ll get a firsthand lesson about delayed onset.”
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
“Will he be okay?” Jeremy asked him.
Hardwick nodded. “He should be fine. Thanks to Roscoe’s quick thinking.”
Maddox lifted his hand up, barely. “Roscoe?”
I knelt beside him. “Yeah?”
He still held his hand up so I took it and his fingers latched onto mine with about all the strength I figured he had. “Stay with me.”
“Yeah, of course,” I replied, knowing full well that we were holding hands in front of everyone and trying not to care.
Julio went to check on Wes, Luke, Blake, and Jeremy. I put my other hand to Maddox’s chest, his neck, and then his forehead. “He’s not as hot now.”
Maddox snorted, his voice weak. “I beg your fucking pardon.”
The doctor laughed. “Not that kind of hot. Maddox, you almost cooked yourself. You’re lucky Roscoe was here.”
“You have no idea how true that is.” Maddox smiled, though he was still obviously not back to himself. He lay there, slow breathing for another minute or two. “Hey, doc, um, I should probably have someone stay with me tonight, right?”
Hardwick completely missed Maddox’s point. “You’re going to need to take it easy, yes. But it wouldn’t hurt to have someone on standby. Just in case. If you get headaches or dizziness, a rapid heart rate or blurred vision, you should call an ambulance.”
“Roscoe will stay with me,” Maddox said.
Hardwick looked to me and I rolled my eyes. “What about if he’s more demanding than usual or argues too much? Can I call for an ambulance then? Have him taken away?”
“You’re not funny,” Maddox complained.
Hardwick smiled and took Maddox’s blood pressure one more time. “Okay, you can try sitting up in a few minutes. Keep sipping those electrolytes,” he said, patting Maddox’s shoulder as he stood up to go check on the others.
It left just me and Maddox. He didn’t appear to be letting go of my hand any time soon, so I sat on my ass beside him. “You scared the shit outta me,” I whispered.
“Scared me too,” he replied. “Felt like the air had a pulse. I just couldn’t seem to breathe and I knew I was too hot.”
“Feel better now?”
“Better. Except the receiver is sticking into my ass.”
Each earpiece had a small black receiver, about the size of a wallet, that fit into their back pocket. It was hard plastic and couldn’t have been comfortable. “Here,” I said, gripping his hip and rolling him onto his side. I slid the receiver out of his pocket and gently rolled him back, making him smile. He was holding the ice pack from his chest, but he now had goosebumps. “You cold now?” It was probably nothing, given he was shirtless, barefoot, covered with ice packs.
