-20-

Christmas Eve. England.

A few weeks later, Ash stood in the wings peeping out at the massive crowd assembled to hear them perform. The support act had certainly got them rocking, and the whole auditorium was brimming with goodwill and seasonal cheer.

“The place is packed, eh?” Spook stuck his head out to take a better look at their audience, was spotted and welcomed with an almighty cheer. The main auditorium was a sea of arms, and the two dress circles above them were doing their best to out-do them in terms of noise.

“We’re going to rock the shit out of you,” Ash promised them. He fully intended that every person here would still be beaming about the gig tomorrow as they tucked into their Christmas dinners.

“Must have seemed like you’d never get back here,” Spook observed.

Yeah, there’d been dark days over the last six months. Ash had given the ego-riser some distinctly woeful looks earlier, but the mechanical lift hadn’t been the root of his problems, that was down to his inability to see people for what they really were.

“Are you ready for this?”

As ready as he was ever going to be. “Super psyched for it.” Leastways mostly. There were some anxious butterflies flapping wildly in his insides.

“Yeah, well you’ll be needing this, unless you’re planning on entertaining them with your voice.” Xane approached, Ash’s black Les Paul clasped in his hands. Ash settled the strap around his shoulders, whereupon his two friends both gave him thumbs up approval.

“Now, you’ve taken your iron, and drank a gallon, haven’t you?”

“Yes, mam.” Ash muttered, throwing Xane some serious side-eye. The Black Halo front man gave him an unsettling grin in return. It may well have been that Xane intended it to be reassuring, but he was decked out in all his fiendish finery including yellow cat’s eye contacts and a heap of black kohl around his eyes and mouth, that made him resemble some sort of ghoulish prince.

“Remember, no theatrics, no overdoing it. We don’t want you crashing out on us again, and if there’s any problems with your fingers, just give me the nod and I’ll take over.” Xane, the man known for theatrics, was warning him to calm it down—ha! But sure, he knew. He remembered the plans. They’d spent the last week developing a series of signals they could use, so that Xane could take over whenever Ash needed to give his fingers a break. Not that Ash planned to utilise them, at least not tonight. This opening gig, he intended to get through without assistance. After that, sure, he’d rely on Xane if he needed to, but tonight had to be perfect.

Cave Troll pushed Elspeth’s replacement over to them. Poor Liam. Most people cut their teeth playing to a handful of mates in some seedy backroom at a working men’s club, then playing successively larger venues. They were feeding him to the sharks, expecting him to produce the goods at a sold out arena show.

“I belong back here, not out there,” he protested, shaking himself free of Cave Troll’s hold. He stared at them, while his feet shuffled exactly as if he was gearing up to bolt.

“You’re at the back, no one will notice you. Even Luthor’s positioned further forward than where you’ll be standing, so curb the freak out,” Xane said.

“You’re only shitting yourself now, but in the end you’ll be floating and desperate to do it all again,” Ash advised him.

Their former roadie shook his head. “I’ll never. Guys, you need to find someone else.”

“We don’t need to find anyone else,” the five of them all chorused together. “We have you.”

“I’m counting you in, guys. Get out there and rock these bastards,” Ulf said to them through their earpieces. “Let the Black Halo magic begin.”

It sounded corny, but Ash equated the thrill of being on stage with magic. There was definitely something inexplicably thrilling about it. How he’d managed to survive six months without the crowd’s adulation, he didn’t know. Ginny, he supposed. The guys had stood by him and tolerated all his shitty emo angst, but without Ginny, it was hard to believe he’d ever have managed to pick up a guitar again, let alone play for this cavern of screaming psychos. And just as soon as he’d finished entertaining them, he intended to say thank you to her in the best way he could think of.

The first set passed super quickly. Ash kept a tight rein on his emotions the whole time, as he endeavoured not to fluff a single note. Some of the triplets on the new stuff really did require his fingers to fly, but somehow, he nailed them. In any case, the crowd were behind them, and didn’t seem to give a damn about a few fluffed notes. They were screaming themselves hoarse between tracks and singing along with the lyrics of all their biggest hits. It made him glow like a beacon when they proved they knew every word to Lockdown when it hadn’t even been officially released. Sally, or someone had slipped a bootleg into the wild, and the fan sites had been losing their shit over it for the last couple of days. Graham was now talking about bumping the official release forward to capture the zeitgeist. Weirdly, Ash didn’t even care that it was being illegally shared in a way that wouldn’t net him a bean of recompense. He just loved that they loved it. And besides, the pre-sales numbers for the new album were already at a record high.

By the second half, he’d relaxed enough to genuinely enjoy himself, and to realise that enjoying it was more important than mechanical perfection. Ergo, it was okay to cut himself a bit of slack.

Result—Xane attempted to smooch him during the intro to Lillith Licked, and he and Spook fooled around competing with Luthor while he was performing one of his drum solos.

By the time they reached the penultimate song of the night, Xane looked slightly put out that he hadn’t had the chance to show off his talent for guitar. Despite the moaning he liked to do about being forced to play, they all knew he actually loved it. The guy was finger perfect on every Black Halo track ever written. In any case, he’d get his chance over the coming weeks. Ash wasn’t fooling himself. He might be flying at the moment, but his body was still healing. The iron tablets, much to his mortification, had actually helped a lot.

It still set his teeth on edge when he had to swallow the damn pills, but he accepted that sometimes you had to take things out of necessity, and at least they weren’t painkillers.

Also, he was pretty certain you couldn’t get hooked on iron tablets. He hadn’t found any reported incidences on the internet. The only major downside to them was black poop.

Cue many, many jokes from the guys about the gateway to hell, and Satan’s potty.

After two encores, they were still on the stage.

“A little quiet, please.” Xane raised his hand until he got the crowd to simmer down. They were all staring up, wondering if they were about to be treated to one last track, or if this was the official send off. “We realise you’re all dying to get home to your bed in anticipation of Santa coming—”

“I’m certainly going to be coming,” some lady in one of the front rows yelled, waving a Black Halo branded dildo in the air.

Words were going to have to be spoken post-show to somebody about that particular item’s availability.

“Unless you want to give me a ride on the real thing.”

Xane flashed her a wicked smile. “Darling, I’d love to, but I don’t think the one you have there belongs to me.” He swept his arms to the side, and the lighting gods illuminated a blushing Rock Giant.

“Anyway, getting back to the purpose of this moment.” He dropped his voice down low. “Mr. Gore would like a few words.”

Oh shit! This was the moment. “That’s right,” he said into his mic. “One moment, please.”

Ash unhooked his guitar and handed it over to one of the techies on standby in the wings, before moving over to the main mic where Xane was standing. His friend clapped him on the back and then gave him some space.

Ash drew in a deep breath then let it go, pushing all his doubts about what he was about to do out along with it. “Hi guys.”

Screams erupted.

“I think a few of you are aware that I’ve had a pretty ropey time over the last few months. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it out here to see you again.”

There were assorted cries of sympathy and hollers of, “We love you, Ash,” that filled his heart up to capacity and kept him going.

“I’m not going to bore you with all the details, which aren’t very exciting, but I do want to take this opportunity to say thank you to a very special person. Ladies and gents, that person is Ginny Walters, and without her, I wouldn’t be here.”

Fantastic crowd that they were, they honoured his lady with massive roars of approval.

“Ginny,” he waited until they were listening again. “I don’t deserve you, and I realise you’re probably cursing me now for putting you on the spot, but thank you, and I love you.” Applause erupted. Ash licked his lips. “Also, will you marry me?”

The whole auditorium erupted into cheers, while a contingent down at the front keenly volunteered to console him if she said no.

Ash raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the lights. He wasn’t sure if she was out there in the crowd or back stage at this minute, so it was difficult to know in which direction to look. His heart climbed up his throat as he waited and waited. It felt like an eternity, the minutes stretching on, while sweat beaded across his brow and tension knotted all the muscles in his back. He’d planned this moment as he’d wanted to let the whole world know how he felt about her, but getting here had involved conquering mountains he’d been pretending for years didn’t exist. Even buying the ring had proved tricky. He’d done that before when he was head over heels about Connie, and the result certainly hadn’t resembled his imaginings.

“Ginny, are you out there?”

He closed his eyes and took a breath. What if she wasn’t? What if she didn’t appear, or did the unspeakable and said no?

She wouldn’t. She wasn’t that sort of woman. He’d told her all about Connie, about how he’d thought he’d done everything right, and then got down on bended knee and discovered nothing was as he imagined. He still didn’t know the whole truth of that episode of his life, and recognised that he almost certainly never would. But it didn’t matter. He wasn’t the same person he’d been back then, and Ginny was nothing like Connie.

Nothing at all like her.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and fingered the ring he’d bought. It had been burning a hole in his pocket since mid-October. He’d bought it right after he’d been given the all clear to tour. Rather than heading straight home after that piece of fantastic news, he’d wandered around Stockholm for a bit, allowing his emotions to catch up with themselves. Somehow, he’d ended up in a backstreet with an old-fashioned jeweller’s store. He’d seen the ring in the window and immediately known it was the one.

Of course, going home and finding a way to check her ring size to ensure he hadn’t made a mistake without cluing her in to his intentions had been an interesting challenge. Dorky challenges, involving the measuring and comparisons of certain lengths and girths—mostly of his cock—had eventually yielded the required information.

“I’m here, Ash.”

He got down onto one knee. The spotlight blinded him, so he couldn’t tell looking up if her expression was one of pleasure, but she put her hand in his when he reached out, and didn’t back away when he slipped the engagement ring past her knuckle. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

See—his nightmares had been unfounded. She was nothing like Connie.

On his feet again, Ash crushed her in an embrace and kissed her. His heart was fit to burst, and he couldn’t speak. Tears gathered in his eyes, and the bastards up in the control box showed those close-ups on the big screens.

Happy tears.

Everyone would know he was a soppy romantic, but he guessed he’d clued them in on that score already.

“Take her home.” Rock Giant wolf whistled.

Luthor hit the drums, and the guys segued into the beginning of Sweet Sanctuary. Ash didn’t even consider joining in. He doubted he could hold a guitar at the moment, let alone play one, and in any case the only thing he had space for in his arms was his lady.

Fuck! She’d agreed. She’d actually agreed.

He could hardly believe that she was going to marry him.

***

Backstage, everyone took turns offering congratulations, but with Christmas Day only a few hours away, everyone was keen to be on their way. Black Halo were heading off in different directions, he and Ginny to spend the next few days with his parents, before the tour picked up again on the 29th.

If the band and crew were eager depart, the same couldn’t be claimed of the fans. They were mobbed when they exited the arena. Xane lost his coat to one group of overzealous girls before security surrounded them and forced a path through the crowd to their waiting cars. Ash mostly had things thrust at him. Panties, Bras, stuff he could sign, and numerous well wishes. One guy was particularly insistent, following them from the venue exit right to the car, where he managed to slip past the security guys as they hauled one infatuated middle-aged lady off Spook.

“Ashley Gore?” He thrust an envelope at him before garbling something else Ash failed to catch. Ginny took the envelope, and sat on it, as she slid into the middle seat in the rear of the car. Ash and Rock Giant got in on either side of her.

“I can’t decide if they’re this riled up because they’ve not seen us for six months, or because your dick’s no longer at their disposal.”

“Our fans have always been fucking psychos, but I think this is happy rioting. I’d still rather not invite them to the wedding, though. Keep it smallish,” he said to Ginny. “And no matter what Sally suggests, we’re not selling photographic rights to some celebrity gossip magazine.”