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Blaze
Blaze was leaning against the side of a large, shiny tour bus, looking out over the desert plains. He watched a genuine tumbleweed roll across the dusty path and smiled to himself. That was a sight he didn’t often get to see back in Los Angeles, but he had memories of watching the piles of tangled vegetation blowing around the dunes of his childhood, spreading its seeds. It felt good to be back in the familiar surroundings of the desert, even if it was Joshua Tree National Park, an hour from Indio, California rather than Moab, Utah. He felt perfectly at home surrounded by miles and miles of crunchy brush, shifting sands, and sun-bleached boulders. The only way it could be any better would be if he had his dirt bike, plus the freedom to ride it. This place would be perfect for a joy ride and some adrenaline-fueled dune jumps.
But Blaze was busy today, and the desert was already filled with too many people. Today was the first day of the Sunfair Music Festival, named for the Sunfair Dry Lake nearby. It was a medium-sized outdoor event that attracted crowds of hundreds of people out to the quiet desert campgrounds for a multi-artist lineup.
There was one large stage set up with the usual adornments and props. Many established and up-and-coming performers were on the docket, forming an eclectic mix of mostly pop music of different flavors. There were synth-infused house bands, deejays, soft rock and alternative pop outfits. As was the tendency for events like this, Blaze had heard that there was some light drama regarding the lineup. Some artists from the original roster had been replaced, whether by choice or not, and there was the usual scrambling to make sure everyone knew their place. Blaze had been in this industry long enough to not be too worried about it. Some small details were bound to go awry when so many people were involved in one big event.
The festival was to last three days, but today was the most important, because Tortured Hearts was performing that afternoon. Giselle, Matt, Jimmy, and the roadies had all ridden out from Los Angeles the night before to start setting up before things got too wild. Asher drove Blaze and himself out to the desert behind them in his Cadillac. The tour bus was spacious, but still a tight fit when everyone squeezed in at once. The crew had brought along extra first aid equipment this time. They were especially uptight about securing props, as well, after the disaster at Griffith Park. Blaze had little doubt that they had it under control. He was less concerned about the props and the details. He was interested in Giselle.
Especially since they hadn’t gotten much of a chance to interact since their steamy studio session. Blaze and Asher were on edge, having barely heard from the girl after that day, except for some very formal, professional text messages regarding actual work. The whole five-hour drive from LA, he and Asher had quietly avoided the subject. Neither of them was ashamed of what had happened, but they weren’t sure how Giselle felt about the whole thing. Whether or not she instigated their tryst, Blaze felt responsible. He had played along with her bratty, seductive game. He had let himself get caught up in her beauty, her charm. Today, though, he and Asher were focused on just keeping her happy—and safe.
A group of young women wandered several yards away. They were all dressed in sequined, sparkly, over-the-top outfits, the kind of fashion only acceptable at music festivals like this one. Because the festival was called Sunfair and took place in the middle of summer, the theme of the event was sunshine. Everything was golden and shimmery, like a celebration of the sun itself. The girls whispered and winked at Blaze as they passed by. He gave them a curt nod in response, which was enough to send them away in a mass of giggles. Asher came back from parking the Cadillac farther out of the way and came sauntering around the back of the bus with a bottle of water in his hands. In place of his usual spectacles, he wore a pair of prescription sunglasses, which made him look more bad-ass than academic.
“Has Giselle come out yet?” Asher asked him.
Blaze shook his head. “One of the roadies said she’s still in there getting prepared for the first set. I figure she’ll let us in when she’s ready,” he replied.
Asher looked up at the heavily tinted windows of the tour bus and sighed. He looked back at Blaze with a pained expression. “Did we fuck this up?” he asked in a low voice.
Blaze was surprised; Asher was usually less brusque. But he seemed genuinely concerned about the answer. Blaze was worried, too, to tell the truth. He shrugged.
“Too soon to tell, I think, man. But we haven’t been fired yet, and she’s still been texting us this week. I think she might just be… processing,” he offered.
“I’ve been doing that too. Processing, I mean. I keep going back over that night in my head. How we could have avoided it, deflected it somehow,” Asher murmured.
“There was no holding us back,” Blaze said. “Giselle wanted it, too.”
“There’s definitely no holding her back,” Asher agreed.
As though summoned, the tour bus door slid open and Giselle came hopping down the metal steps. It had only been a week since the last time he saw her, and yet, Blaze was convinced she had become even more beautiful in the interim. There were two small braids worked into her hair on each side, with little yellow flowers woven in and out of the plaits. The rest was fluffed out into a glorious, wild mane of black hair that curled around her shoulders. Her pretty, heart-shaped face was shimmery with golden highlighter and glitter across her high cheekbones. Her lips were painted in a sun-worshipping gold color, and the splashes of bright brassy pigment on her eyelids made her amber eyes almost glow. Her body was draped in a long, flowy white jumpsuit. It was decorated with thousands of sparkly gold sequins and crystals which glittered in the sun with every tiny movement. The pants flared out at the bottom to emphasize the towering clear-and-gold platform heels on her dainty feet. The sleeves billowed out, too, and she wore tons of golden bangles on her forearms. The jumpsuit had a dramatic plunging neckline, under which Giselle wore no bra. There was a golden clasp choker around her throat.
Her eyes went wide when she noticed the boys standing there. For a few moments, they just stood frozen, staring at each other. Finally, Blaze couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Wow. You look like a goddess,” Blaze blurted out.
“Seriously. So beautiful,” Asher said.
Giselle’s face lit up even more with a big smile. She looked down at her outfit, then back up at the boys with an almost bashful expression. Unusual for such a confident young woman.
“Thanks. It’s good to see you guys,” she said softly. “I’m sorry I’ve been so…”
“Distant?” Blaze filled in.
“Yeah. I kind of figured you guys wouldn’t want to come out after this week. But here you are,” she said, eyes shining.
“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” said Asher with a smile.
“No matter what, we support you. Always,” Blaze affirmed.
She looked for a moment like she might fling her arms around them in a hug. But instead, the set crew came thundering down the tour bus steps to whisk her away.
“Talk later?” she whispered as she was all but carried away.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Asher told her.
Matt and Jimmy went along with them, surrounded by security and miscellaneous roadies. Blaze and Asher followed the procession down to the big outdoor stage, surrounded by the dramatic desert landscape.
The crowds were thick by now, and everyone was in high spirits. The first several acts of the day had already performed, and now it was time for Tortured Hearts to take the stage. The head stagehand helped the guys find their spot in the wings of the stage while the band strapped on their instruments and ran through the setlist for the umpteenth time.
