Black Hurricane

If there's one thing I don't think I'll ever do in my 23-year-old life, it's sitting in a depressing press conference and waiting for a rock band called Black Hurricane to come along.But I had no choice, my bestie Eric played all the sympathy cards and asked me to come here with him.That included cute doggy pouts, treats me to dinner at his and Alex's house, and drinks all night long at Clash, a gay nightclub in South Boston.I could have said no, but Eric is super cute without being a puppy, Alex cooks heavenly food, and I desperately needed to get drunk after the show.But what finally made me compromise was Eric's promise to pay me as a photographer.I ran out of paint and needed new guitar strings.Press photos for events like this can make a lot of money.I was at the mercy of others.

And it seemed unlikely that I would ever get close to the band's frontman, Dean McQueen.Eric and I sat at least ten rows away from the speakers, and since the lead singer himself is a true Bostonian, it seemed that the entire Boston news media would not want to miss this media conference.Eric kept babbling in my ears about "Black Hurricane", especially about lead singer Dean, they will use the city of Boston as the end point of their tour, and they will also participate in several benefit concerts, so that He has recited the information to me countless times.

Eric pulled his platinum-blonde hair back into a low ponytail, his sky-blue eyes fixed on the empty podium.As he pulled back locks of hair behind his ears, I saw his fair skin against the sleeves of his crimson shirt.

"I can't believe I'm about to meet him, Jace!" Eric had yelled countless times.

I rolled my eyes and slid lazily into the uncomfortable plastic chair beneath me, fiddling with the shimmery-pink work badge around my neck that said I was from Shiny Boy magazine.Eric has the same work card. He just learned this morning that he must have a work card to indicate the magazine he belongs to, so he made it.The magazine is Alex's property and is edited by Eric.Their status as lovers has nothing to do with Eric taking this position, at least Eric insists so.

The whispers in the venue gradually quieted down as several people walked up to the speaking seats.After tidying up her gray pencil skirt, a red-haired woman sat at the farthest end of the speaking table.He was followed by a handsome middle-aged man, buttoning up his well-tailored gray coat, the cuffs of his white shirt glowing against his dark skin.I could feel the anticipation of everyone in the venue, but the "Black Hurricane" band members still didn't show up.

"My God, my God, my God." Eric murmured in a low voice while stretching his neck and staring at the entrance.

"Calm down dude, you're like a crazy fangirl," I reminded.

"I'm a fangirl!" Eric screamed, covering his mouth with trembling fingers, as the leather-clad band members finally walked in one by one.

The middle-aged man just now sat in one of the two chairs in the middle of the speaking seat, and the other members sat in the other ones, leaving the other chair in the middle empty.That was supposed to be for Dean McQueen, who never took punctuality seriously.The middle-aged man approached the microphone and introduced himself as "Jack Coleman", the manager of "Black Hurricane".

He cleared his throat and said, "Dean will be here soon."

All kinds of questions erupted in the venue, and I thought to myself, how can I hear each question clearly and answer them in this kind of chattering like chickens fighting?

"We'll start the Q&A after Dean gets in," Coleman added into the microphone.

People reverted to whispering, when Erik leaned into my ear and began to whisper: "This is the drummer, Maxime Leffel." He pointed to a very tall man with long brown hair American-American, the man has a muscular build and a charming smile. "This is the bass player, Lucas Hart." He nods with his chin to a plain white man with superbly permed blond hair, which may or may not be his natural curl. "This is the guitarist, Yin Shaolin." He said, pointing to an Asian man with black spiky hair and exaggerated eye makeup. "Their keyboard player just quit, so they're on loan for the rest of the tour."

"Are these their real names?" Who would name their child "Yin Shaolin"?

"The first name is real, but the last name is not sure."

Suddenly, Eric grabbed my thigh, his nails digging into the flesh under my ripped jeans.

"Oh my god, my god, my god!" Eric screamed as another band member walked in.The man was wearing tight leather pants and a crisp white shirt buttoned only in the middle.About my height, about five foot ten, narrow hipped, tall, with long legs.His well-trimmed bangs framed a sharp-edged face, and his skin was fair, but not so pale that it contrasted sharply with the shawl-black hair.There's a fierce confidence that seeps through every step he takes, insanely sexy.I wouldn't mind spending an hour and a half with a man like that... until I could see his face and recognize him.

Note ①: About 1.78 meters.

Dean fucking McQueen.

The superstar sat down on the chair vacated for him in the middle, and leaned towards the microphone gracefully: "Sorry I'm late. There are too many people here, so I can't find a parking space."

The audience burst into laughter, but I could only squeeze out a sneer at this lame joke.Then the reporters started asking questions.I couldn't hear their questions, and I couldn't hear the answers, the only thing I could hear was Dean's muffled voice on the mic.I'm not obsessed with his voice or his music, quite the opposite, every time I hear his voice, I want to pick up my guitar and slam it against the wall - not because of Dean's deep husky The voice and the rebellious melody made me lose my mind, no, it's because I hate this man, and not only I hate him, I also hate him, I hope he dies in the next second, preferably in public The face of the press choked on his own vomit, like Jimi Hendrix.

Note ②: The late guitar master vomited due to an overdose of psychedelic drugs and eventually choked to death on the vomit.

"Jess, take a picture!" Eric elbowed me hard with his tiny arm.

I slowly raised the camera and pressed the shutter.

"Go to the front and do as others do." He pointed to the photographers who rushed to the front and snapped the shutters frantically.

I sighed, slowly got up from the chair, ran my fingers through my hair, and then glanced at the terrible speaker's seat.Give me 1 years and I never thought I would be standing here.Suddenly, new paint and new guitar strings didn't seem to matter, and I just wanted to get away.But Eric's magazine needs these pictures, and I'd rather die than disappoint my friend.

As I approached, Dean was looking this way, and my heart skipped a beat.He frowned as if trying to recognize who I was.It's just typical of him.Of course he won't remember me.Why would he remember?My heart was pounding and I was sweating.My throat was choked, and the oxygen seemed to be blocked out of my throat, making it difficult for me to breathe.Still, I had a hard time bringing myself to look away.

In his green eyes, am I nervous?Or just hate?I haven't seen him for many years.

I didn't want him to think I was a big fan, so I squinted all my hatred for this man into one stare of hatred, and then I raised my camera and snapped a picture.

Dean raised an eyebrow.I don't know if he recognized me.This is very doubtful, because my appearance is already very different from the original.He sidled around the Asian guy whose name I forgot to whisper something to the woman who leaned over to her and the woman nodded and looked for me in the crowd with her brown eyes, and She took a piece of paper out of her folder and wrote something, and I swallowed hard.In the end what happened?Are they going to call security to kick me out?Just in case, I snapped pictures like crazy.Take a picture of Dean's cocky look; take a picture of that Asian guy smiling big after telling a joke; Back from the party” expression; the red-haired woman taking notes; the agent who has the overall situation in his hands keeps talking like a machine gun, as if he can answer twenty questions in one minute.Solo shots; group portraits, and even Eric in a bright navy suit holding his hand up to ask a question.

All of this just went by in a blur.To be able to end so quickly is a virtue accumulated in my previous life. Before I recovered, I was already walking towards the entrance of the hotel.

"Jess, wait!" Eric called me as he grabbed my arm, and I turned to see his radiant face. "Where are you going? We still have an exclusive interview."

"Interview?" I could hardly recognize my own voice.

"Yeah, come on." He pulled me back and pushed me through the crowd. "I think Dean is trying to get some points in the gay community, you know. He's been interviewed by a lot of gay magazines since he came out a year ago. But this time I was too late to make an appointment, and I I only found out about the press conference in the last few minutes, so when the assistant came to me and said that I would offer an interview opportunity, I couldn't believe it. She also said that I would bring you to shoot."

I stopped in my tracks, and Eric looked back suspiciously.

"Eric, I didn't promise to do an exclusive interview, can you take pictures yourself?"

"What?" His voice soared: "No way, I only have about 5 minutes for this interview. I didn't even ask a single question during the meeting. I prepared six questions for 210, six for 210!"

He held the pink stationery in his hand to his chest.

"Come on, Jess, please. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I'll pay you double your salary. I'll buy you more wine. I'll do whatever you say."

Damn Eric.Why is he so cute and soft when he begs others?He's as cute as he could abduct Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.I don't think he did it on purpose, he just has this kind of charm that infects those around him, making the whole world revolve around his likes and sorrows.That was the number one reason I was attracted to him in the first place.

"Okay." I agreed with a sigh, running my fingers through my tangled hair.Light brown locks clung to my cheeks in locks, almost to the length of my chin. "Okay. But you're going to buy me drinks, lots and lots of drinks."

"Tonight" Eric burst into a big smile, and we walked together to a less crowded place.

"Not tonight, I have work tonight."

"In 'The Flying Frenchman'?"

"At Enrique's Pizza House," I replied, passing the woman in the pencil skirt through the porch entrance.

"Oh, what about tomorrow?"

"There are jobs, too."

"At 'Enrique's Pizza House'?"

"On 'The Flying Frenchman.' Come on, I told you yesterday when you wanted to ask me out."

"God, how could I remember? You seem to have six jobs."

The redheaded woman ushered us into a waiting area packed with reporters and photographers.

"Those were temporary jobs. I was working my last night at 'Enrique's Pizza House,' at least for now."

We sat down in the corner and began the longest, or shortest, wait of my life.I really didn't want to meet Dean, and it seemed like the more you resist getting somewhere, the faster time flies.

I close my eyes and feel the coolness of the beige walls under my shoulders.It's like some kind of little monster is gnawing on my stomach.As we waited, hundreds of questions ran through my head: Why were we invited?Did Dean recognize me?Will he talk to me?What am I going to say?Maybe I don't have to say anything, because Eric will do all the talking.

"Oh, I love this song so much." Eric sighed, and looked up to the speaker, where a deep, husky male voice was playing.The music is not very loud, but now that Eric mentioned it, I can't ignore it.Dean sings rock, and almost heavy metal, but his voice is more suitable for slow songs in my opinion.I've only listened to a few slow songs by "Black Hurricane", although I change the channel quickly every time the TV is on the music channel, but this crappy band is so famous, they can hear their songs everywhere, and the DJ is in The dance halls play their songs, and sometimes I even hear them over the store speakers when I'm shopping, and there's nowhere to escape.

"God, he's the sexiest man in the world right now." Eric stared at a huge poster that I hadn't noticed before.Dean was really attractive: the leather pants hugged his tight hips tightly, and there were several belts around his waist.He is topless, with several necklaces hanging down to his navel, and many bracelets on his arms. There is a tribal-style black tattoo on his left upper arm that covers his entire shoulder to his chest.His face was full of hoarseness when he shouted into the microphone, and there was a blue light shining from behind the microphone, making his black hair cast a layer of blue halo.Some people look ugly when they're so hoarse, but Dean really looks good all the time, and I hate that.Hate, hate, hate.

"Hottier than Alex?" I look away from the poster.

"No, second only to Alex," Erik corrected. "If only I could have met Dean before I met Alex so I could have some fun with him, that's all," he said with a wink.

"Well, I can guarantee that Dean McQueen is an out-and-out prodigal son. If Alex doesn't mind you messing with outsiders, he will definitely want you to have sex with him."

God, just saying that name out of my mouth makes me shudder like someone scratching a chalkboard with their fingernails.

"Alex and I don't mess with outsiders. This is the first rule of our relationship code." Eric bent down and rummaged in his satchel.

"Not even with Dean McQueen?" I asked, prodding Eric's little ass under his purple jeans.

"Get your hands off, Jace. You're dead if Alex finds out." He sat back down, satchel on his lap.

"Huh, I'm so scared. He's as harmless as a hamster."

"Hey, hamsters hurt when they bite people too. My cousin Caleb in Virginia had one. That little shit not only shits everywhere, every time we catch him and try to let him go When we go back to the cage, we will bite us to the blood. That little idiot is addicted to escape from prison."

"If it can manage to get out of the cage, it's not stupid, right?"

Eric snorted, stood up and stretched. He was only five foot six in all. "Damn, I can't find my Sprite. I just saw a vending machine in the hallway. I don't think it will call us anytime soon."

Note ③: About 1.68 meters.

I put my camera strap on and stood up, and Eric and I walked down the hallway.

"You're right, though," Eric said when we stopped in front of the vending machine. "That hamster is actually very clever, so don't underestimate my boyfriend, he is smarter than the two of us combined."

"Smart enough not to let you touch his money." I smiled smugly at Eric.He was stuffing coins into the vending machine, and pressing the Sprite purchase button, the drink fell into the delivery port with a bang.

After Eric took out the drink, he turned around and put his hands on his hips and said, "Hey, I never asked for his money, okay. I earn my own money."

"You're just a college student."

"Yeah, but don't forget, I'm also the editor-in-chief of Shiny Boy magazine. I picked up this mess and turned it around in just five months. Now it's the best-selling gay magazine of the moment One, we've been the No. [-] seller for two months in a row and more than quadrupled our subscriptions. And that's not counting online subscriptions. We've also—"

"Okay, okay, you've got me completely in the 'mess.' Yes, you do earn your own money, and you're a grown man, but that doesn't mean you don't spend any of his money. You Are you wearing new boots?"

Eric proudly showed off his shiny new black ankle boots. "Gucci. Alex has a whole closet of custom shoes that I wish I could borrow, but his shoes are too big for me. Plus, he doesn't dress the same way. Speaking of style ...What's your style? 'Beggar style' or something? Did you lose a bet and was forced to wear it or something?"

He looked at my battered sneakers, ripped jeans, and paint-splattered T-shirt.There was no venue attire, but no one stopped me at the door and forced a blazer on me.

"Dude, I spend all the money I make on party clothes, and there's no way I can wear them in broad daylight. They're so shiny in the sun, they'll blind people's eyes."

"Aha, what do you think Dean McQueen is going to do when he sees you in this? He's going to walk right past you and stare at my ass and ask for my phone number, which he's going to do. I mean it, man."

"I fuck his Dean McQueen!"

"You're dressed like this so you can't fuck him." Eric opened his Sprite and quickly dodged back, the soda foam pouring out along the mouth of the can, dripping to the ground to form small bubbles. "Depend on."

"Man, I don't need to dress to attract attention. I have my charming smiley face and 'wake-up' hairstyle, and those two things will never go out of style."

I'm not really a braggart; I just enjoy bickering with him.

"Huh, you're really just getting out of bed. Well, that's not even considered a hairstyle, you're just too lazy to comb your hair. Why don't you—"

"Is that Eric Wesley and Tyrese Neha Adani?" the red-haired woman asked as she checked the list.

what happened?We had just waited less than 15 minutes.Thank goodness if they're going to chase us away.

"Well, actually Terry can't come today, this is—"

"Andrew," I snapped before he could say my real name.If Dean doesn't recognize who I am later, I'm not going to give him a hint.I don't want him to know who I am.But I still have a little bit of conflict, I want him to know why my hateful eyes came from before.

"This way, please," she said with a smile, leading me to a room at the end of the hall.

"Andrew?" Eric mouthed to me as he walked, frowning.

"It's the name of the guy I slept with yesterday," I whispered, winking at him. "He's the reason I just woke up before I left."

Eric shook his head, then we walked to the door, facing two burly men standing on both sides, Eric straightened his shoulders.And security?Is it necessary?

One of them grabbed the handle and opened the door.Upon entering the gloomyly decorated room, Eric gasped unprofessionally.He looked around for the band members, but they weren't there.

As the door closed behind me, another door opened, and out came my nightmare.This man has ruined my life.The little monsters in my stomach started eating me at three times the speed again.

Dean's green eyes flicked over to Eric, then focused on me, with the same odd look on his face as before.No, he didn't recognize who I was.I exhale the breath I've been holding, a little exasperated as I relax.This time I was mentally prepared, and I would no longer panic like a young deer locked by searchlights.I avoided his sight, took off the camera and started debugging, showing a busy look.I can still feel his eyes glued to me, until Eric suddenly let out an exclamation of admiration, and he looks away.

"My God, Mr. McQueen! I'm a huge fan of yours," he said as he stepped forward, arms outstretched in a hug.So professional, Eric.He stopped just inches away from Dean, as if he wasn't sure he had the honor of shaking his idol's hand.Dean finally took his eyes off of me and looked at Eric again.

"Just call me Dean," he said, flashing his damn sexy smile.I could swear Eric screamed a little when Dean squeezed his hand tightly.Dean motioned to a brown sofa, and they took their seats at opposite ends of the coffee table. "The rest of the band will not be joining this interview."

I stood motionless in the doorway.Dean was all fake, pretending to be friendly and polite.You don't need to think about it, the room he just walked out of must have the signature scene of "Black Hurricane": tobacco, alcohol, drugs, and half-clothed fans.

"That's perfectly fine," Eric said, studying Dean from head to toe with a broad smile. "My name is Eric Weasley from Shiny Boy Magazine and this is..." He looked back at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked him, continuing to wipe the already spotless camera lens.

"Andres?"

"It's Andrew," I said curtly, making it clear that I was only here for the photoshoot.

"Yes, Andrew." Eric turned and smiled at Dean.

"Nice to meet you, Andrew," the deep, husky male voice made me shudder from the bottom of my heart.Did he wink at me just now?Is that the case, he wants to have a fight with me?

I didn't answer, just started taking pictures of Eric and Dean while Eric put the recording equipment on the coffee table.

"is this OK?"

Dean shrugged, his green eyes looking at me again.I pursed my lips and just took a picture.

Eric started asking him questions one by one, speaking very fast, as if he planned to ask all six of his 5 questions in five minutes.Dean leaned back on the couch with his usual "I'm the worst" attitude.But every time I got a little closer, he seemed to be looking at the camera, so after being watched so many times, I switched to filming Eric.

"Jess, you should take a picture of Dean," Eric reminded me with a sharp eye.

"Sorry," I murmured a sigh and turned the camera to Dean.

"Jace?" Dean asked, pointing the question at me.

I only hesitated for a second before I continued to take pictures: "It's Jesmy, Andrew Jesmy." Damn, it almost gave me away.I wasn't called "Jess" back then, but it was too close to my real name, "Jesper," to be recognizable.

Dean's eyes started to look up and down me like they had when I came in.Oh shit!That's what he wanted to do, to fuck me.Or it would be more appropriate to put it this way: want to strip me naked for a shot.It really pissed me off, but at the same time it made me want to sneer: he really picked the wrong guy.