Vic was moving before he even realized it, pushing through the small crowd near the bar.By the time he reached the side of the stage, road crew and a couple of venue guys were already helping Benny into the wings.No one paid Vic any attention.To them, he was just another guy in a black T-shirt.
He followed anyway.
Backstage was pure panic.
Danny Schraff was already barking orders, pale and tight-faced.The band’s manager, Benita, was moving fast—too fast—directing people to start breaking down gear and loading cases toward the exit.
Vic caught up to Mitty, the young guitarist/tech who’d been helping with sound check earlier.The kid looked shell-shocked but determined.
“Hey,” Vic said, voice low.“I’m Vic.Danny called me in.What gear belongs to Benny?”
Mitty’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed with purpose.“Most of it: the new guitars, half the pedals, the main rack.Benita’s trying to load everything.Looks like she’s going to bolt.”
Vic nodded once.“Then we lock it down.”
They moved together.
While Benita snapped at the crew to hurry and Danny tried to check on Benny in the green room, Vic and Mitty started quietly securing cases.Vic taped shut the ones Mitty pointed out containing Benny’s personal mics and pedals.Mitty slapped “Property of Benjamin Jones” stickers on everything he could find.
That was when Benita noticed.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”she snarled, storming over.“We’re loading out.Now.”
Vic straightened to his full height.“Not Benny’s stuff.He owns most of this gear.We’re not touching it until we know he’s okay.”
Benita’s eyes flashed with fury.“Who the fuck are you?”
“New drummer,” Vic said calmly.“And I’m not helping you strip the band while Benny’s down.”
Danny stepped out of the green room just in time to hear the exchange.“Benita, wait—”
But she was already moving, shoving at Mitty’s shoulder to get to a case.“Move.We’re taking what we need.”
Vic stepped between them.“You’re not.”
The shove came fast.Benita wasn’t small, and she was pissed.Vic absorbed it, refusing to budge.Mitty moved to his side.
Things escalated quickly.
Voices rose.Someone from the crew grabbed Vic’s arm.Vic shook him off.Benita swung at Mitty.Vic caught her wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop her.
That was when the motorcycle club arrived.
Later, Vic would learn that Benny’s brother was a patched officer with the Rebel Wayfarers, and their stake in the venue meant there was always a presence to keep the peace.Five burly bikers came through the backstage door like a storm front, all of them patched members of the club.They took in the scene in a single glance—Benny down, Benita raging, and Vic and Mitty standing guard over the gear.
The leader’s eyes locked on Vic.His nameplate said “Bear.”He asked, “You with them?”jerking his chin toward Benita.
Vic didn’t hesitate.“No, sir.I’m with Benny.”
Something shifted in the air.Another man studied him for a beat, then gave a short nod.He was Mason, per his nameplate and he wore a president patch.
“Smart answer,” Bear muttered.
The MC moved in.Not loud.Not violent.Just an undeniable wall of leather and authority that made everyone else take a step back.Even Benita’s protests died quickly under Mason’s cold stare.
Vic stayed right where he was, arms crossed, standing shoulder to shoulder with Mitty.
He’d only been with the band for a few hours, but he already knew where his loyalty lay.
