Divided Road (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

Chapter 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Boy, it’s hot.” Owen chugged more water. He couldn’t wait to get out of the bus they’d hired, despite it having air-con.

“Remember to keep hydrated,” Rachel reminded him. “None of you have been in a desert before, and the heat is going to hit you hard.”

“At least it’s dry heat and not humid,” Kaci added. “Although I bet the locals will laugh at what we think is hot.”

“Yeah, there’s that.” Jared peered out the window at the makeshift city ahead. “Whoa, this place is big. What I envisioned and reality aren’t even on the same scale.”

Black Rock City stretched out in front of them for miles, its population already way bigger than everyone in New Zealand several times over, including the sheep. A mix of vans, buses, tents, and yurts stretched out into the distance, further than Owen could see.

Their driver pulled over and grinned. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this, and I’m still in awe. You guys are going to love it, but as Rachel said, make sure you keep drinking. Management is providing free water, so take advantage of it.”

Hiring Brett had been a unanimous decision no one regretted. Apart from Clay, who had spent a year in the US as part of his OE—overseas experience—after he left uni, they all felt like they’d stepped into another world, driving on the other side of the road, aside.

“I’m relieved we’re not playing until Friday.” Owen yawned. He’d tried to sleep on the flight over, but the mix of excitement and not wanting to miss anything had resulted in a succession of catnaps.

“One fifteen-hour flight was enough for me for a few days,” Jared said. “Stop yawning. You’re contagious.” He seemed more alert than Owen, although that wouldn’t take much. “I wish we’d had longer in LA, though.”

“I didn’t think adding another ten hours to our trip was a great idea,” Rachel pointed out. “Plenty of time to unwind by exploring it on the way home.”

“This place is amazing.” Kaci looked out the window when Brett started driving again. “And oh, my God, I can’t believe we’re going to be playing in the slot before Grindstone.”

“I know, right?” Phil said. “Wow.”

“I fully intended to stick around afterwards to watch them perform.” Clay let out a sigh.

“Good thing we’ll be done and our nerves out of the way first.” Tyler leaned over and brushed a lock of Phil’s hair from his forehead. “This still feels so surreal. We’re going to be seeing all these bands we love perform in person.”

“I intend to soak in all this ambience and good music.” Owen took another chug of water.

“We need to make sure we get a good view of the stage for the F-Holes, too.” Jared reminded him. They were playing later Friday night.

“Yeah.” Owen grinned. “I can’t wait to hear Luka and Dmitri play their cellos.” He’d already handed his notice in at Arpeggios so that he and Jared could take some time off before his hectic rehearsal schedule and new role with Oriolidae started.

Lindsey had seen them off at the airport, sad she wasn’t able to come with them. Since their heart-to-heart, her and Owen’s relationship had felt more on an even keel. He had no idea how his parents’ conversation had gone, but they were both going out of their way to be more involved in his life.

He and Lindsey still had a few arguments along the way, but that was to be expected, considering the years’ of not-so-great vibes between them. Owen felt guilty about some of the narrative and assumptions he’d made to explain his mother’s previous behaviour, but as Jared had pointed out, he’d done what he needed for his own peace of mind and had been quick to embrace his mother with open arms now she was trying to put things right.

Brett pulled up and parked the bus in the area put aside for performers. “This is us.” He had family coming to the festival, so had planned to stay with them in their tent. “I’ll be back on Sunday. Have fun. It’s been great getting to know you. I’ll be cheering loudly from the audience, but I know you’re going to rock.” He gave them each a grin. “Go Flightless!”

“Go Flightless!” they echoed.

“Such a nice guy,” Rachel said. “We totally scored finding him.” She got up from her seat and grabbed her large handbag, which rumour said was even bigger on the inside. “I’m going to go talk shop with a few people. Settle in and wander around. We’ll meet up here later.”

“Do you need a hand putting up the awning?” Owen asked Clay, who had offered to set up what would be their home away from home for the next few days. While the bus was roomy, with seats folding down into beds, they’d also hired a tent to attach to the side of it to give Rachel and Kaci some privacy.

“You’re too late, mate.” Phil grinned and wrapped his arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “We’ve already got it all sussed. I’ve spent hours going over the instructions.”

“More like a full ten minutes,” Tyler corrected him good-naturedly, with a kiss. He wriggled his finger, which now sported a ring that matched Phil’s. “Besides, this is good practice for all the organising we need to do for our wedding.”

Jared groaned and then coughed. “Don’t you already have that all under control? Or, at least, Phil’s mum does, from what you’ve said.”

“Ah, but we’re only doing this once, so it has to be right.” Tyler was determined that their wedding ceremony would be nothing less than perfection.

“Awww, but marrying you is everything I need, babe.” Phil silenced Tyler with a kiss and waved at them with his free hand.

“I think they want some privacy,” Clay announced. “Come on, Kaci. Plenty of time to worry about setting up. I could do with stretching my legs.”

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Kaci said loudly.

“I’m not sure they heard you.” Owen laughed.

Phil’s silent two-fingered response left them all laughing.

“Clay and I will go find the water tent, or whatever it’s called,” Kaci offered. “You two can figure out the lay of the land, and we can report back here and interrupt the sweet but horny lovers in there.”

“They’ll calm down by Christmas.” Jared followed Owen out of the van and pulled him into an embrace after their friends had walked away. “And attending a late December wedding will be the perfect way to round out the year.”

“Yeah.” Owen kissed Jared slow and deep. “I still can’t believe this is our life. This time last year, things were very different.”

“I prefer this over last year.” Jared rested their foreheads together. “I’d given up finding a band where I fit, and now I have all that and you.” He smiled. “I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you, too.” Owen stretched his stiff shoulders. “Do you think we’ve done the right thing, not including anything new in this concert?”

He and Jared had almost finished the song they’d started at Frays on the beach that evening but decided to put it to one side until after Rocktoberfest.

“Yeah.” Jared gestured for Owen to turn around and started massaging his shoulders. “Each time we play something new, I tense up, hoping the audience doesn’t hate it.”

“They always love our songs.”

“This isn’t our usual audience, though, and I’m not sure a love ballad is the right song for this.” Jared kissed Owen’s neck when he was done. “Walk and talk for a while?”

“Yeah, of course.” Owen slipped his hand into Jared’s and shrugged. “I think we have a good mix of rock and a couple of more melodic songs for this performance, though.” He sighed.

“Penny for them?” Jared frowned. He always picked up on Owen’s change of mood.

“What if this is our only chance for the spotlight?” Owen voiced the thoughts that had been growing since their arrival in the States. “We’re a little drop in a huge lake. I’d love to think that this will be enough to propel us into rock stardom, but this is a four-day festival with heaps of fantastic bands, many of them who have already achieved that.”

“You’re worried that no one will be interested in an emerging band from small town New Zealand?”

“Something like that.” Owen felt foolish mentioning it. “I haven’t said anything because I don’t want to bring anyone down.” He hastily added, “but I know I can talk to you about this stuff.”

“Good. I want you to be able to.” Jared caressed Owen’s thumb while they walked along. “And it’s occurred to me too. I bet we’re not the only ones.” He stopped walking and turned to face Owen. “Do you know what I think? If we make it big, that’s a bonus. We do this, we enjoy it, and if that’s as far as we go, then that’s okay.” He shrugged. “We all have day jobs and if push comes to shove, we’ll keep playing the pub circuit. We’ll have this once-in-a-lifetime experience we can tell our kids about, as well as all the memories that go with it.”

“And that will be enough, right?” Owen felt warm inside when Jared mentioned kids, although they’d never discussed their long-term future.

With the whirlwind of everything going on, they’d been focused on one day-at-a-time, one-gig-at-a-time, and getting here.

“I think so.” Jared frowned. “Shit, I didn’t mean anything by the kids comment. I don’t want you to?—”

“Think that was what you wanted.” Owen smiled. “It’s okay if you do. I love you. I meant what I said about wanting a future together.” Since that day at Gran’s, their path forward was clearer, but they’d never had time to sit down and figure out the day-to-day details and practical side of what that would look like.

“That’s all I want too, sweetheart.” Jared traced his fingers around the outline of Owen’s smile. “As long as you’re in my life, we’ll make it work. The details will come later when we need them to.”

“Shit, it’s hotter than I thought it would be.” Jared stared up at the cloudless sky. “I’m going to grab our water bottles before we go any further.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Owen grinned. “Don’t tell Rachel we wandered off without them, or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“We haven’t gone far,” Jared reminded him. “Barely out of earshot of the noise, I’ll pretend I don’t hear when I sneak in to grab them.”

Owen laughed. “I’m sure Phil and Tyler will be too absorbed with each other to notice.” He frowned, sure he could hear the unmistakable sounds of a cello. “I’m going to follow that music. See you in a few.”

“As long as you don’t find a trail of rats.”

“Ha… ha. Wrong instrument.” Owen rolled his eyes, listened again and headed in the direction of the cellist.

A dark-haired man sat in the shade of a bus, scowling as he played dissonant chords and contrapuntal melody on his cello.

Wow. Owen slowed to a halt when he realised who he was listening to, not sure he should be eavesdropping on an obvious attempt to exorcise demons with music.

He knew that look and how short-lived the result would be once he stopped playing. He’d attempted to forget his own issues that way too many times.

The cellist dragged out the final note, sighed, and closed his eyes. Despite the unhappy vibe coming off him in waves, he seemed less angry.

Or had buried it more successfully than before he’d started playing.

Owen couldn’t help but clap. “Wow, love your Shostakovich.”

“Wait…” The cellist looked startled. “You recognised that?”

“Well, yeah, his second concerto isn’t exactly obscure.” Owen hesitated. “I didn’t realise you played classical, too.” He stopped, suddenly second-guessing himself about the identity of the man in front of him. “You are Luka, right? From the F-Holes.” He’d already made an idiot of himself. Why not go for broke? “I love you guys.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I’m Luka. And until you said something, I would have thought Dmitri and I were the only two people here who’d recognise it. You’re in one of the other bands?”

“Yeah, umm, hi.” Owen breathed out a sigh of relief that he hadn’t been mistaken. “I’m Owen. I play fiddle with Flightless.”

“Oh? Sorry, I’m not familiar.” Luka tilted his head to one side. “Not American, I take it? Though I can’t place your accent.”

“No worries.” Owen shrugged, half expecting Luka’s response. “I’d be surprised if you have heard of us. We’re a Kiwi band…” He elaborated before Luka could make a comment about fruit or small native birds. “New Zealand, hence the accent.” He laughed, still nervous about talking with someone way more successful than he’d probably ever be. “World famous in New Zealand… and probably only just.” He fingered his cross. “Sorry, local joke.” Shit, way to go, Owen, referring to a local advert unfamiliar to anyone outside the country. “Umm, not placing your accent either.”

“Famous anywhere is better than nothing.” Luka’s lips twisted into a strained smile. “At least that’s what I tried to tell my parents.” He waved his hand dismissively. “My family is from Macedonia, but we came here when I was a kid.”

“This is my first time out of New Zealand.” Owen shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant but certain he’d failed. Luka’s comment about his parents hit a little too close to home. “And my mum’s only just coming around to accepting what I do. She’s spent years trying to convince me that I needed to get the band out of my system and pursue a real career in music.”

“Shit, really?” Luka gaped at him. “Me too! Only my parents never accepted what I prefer to play or anything else about me. Shostakovich was only barely acceptable to them.” He scowled. “Too modern.”

“That sucks, and I like Shostakovich. Their loss.” Owen lowered his voice, hoping he wasn’t crossing a line with his next comment but sensing he might have found someone who agreed with it. “Though I must admit I’m not so fussed on some modern composers.” He mock shuddered. “Too much mucking around with key and time signatures.”

“I don’t either.” Luka shook his head. “But the folks were horrified I would rather shred my bow on Rammstein than Rimsky-Korsakov.” He rolled his eyes. “They told me I’m wasting my education.”

Owen snorted. “Yeah, and then it’s followed by the reminder of how they’ve supported me to get that education, and had such high hopes for my future.” He echoed Luka’s eye roll. “My brother did the ‘right thing’ and plays flute with an orchestra. Worse when there’s a comparison right there. My parents said all the right words when we’d had a gig, then I’d wait for the but….”

“ Exactly .” Luka waved his bow in the air. “Only with mine, it was my damned scholarship that paid my way. But when your grandfather was in the USSR Symphony Orchestra, you’ve supposed to ‘aspire higher than the low brow cretins around you’.”

“Ouch.” Owen winced, then grew silent, torn between wanting to give Luka a hug and suspecting it wouldn’t be appreciated. In the end, he spoke slowly, settling on sharing something he hoped would help. “I found out recently that Mum wanted a career as a violinist, but it didn’t work out, so she was determined that I should have what she lost.” He couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped his lips. His attempt to put that part of his past behind him was obviously not working as well as he’d thought. “I spent a lot of years knowing she wanted the best for me and trying to pull myself in two directions.” He held up his hand in case Luka got the wrong idea. Fuck, he’d overshared more than he’d planned and didn’t want to turn the conversation into a sob story about his own issues. “I’m not saying that’s what you’re going through. But yeah, family expectations get you with the guilt because deep down, there’s always that thing that they love you and have the best of intentions.”

“Intentions?” Luka laughed bitterly. “I could almost understand if one of my parents had a dream they couldn’t fulfil and wanted to help me fulfil mine. My folks didn’t have a musical bone in either of their bodies. So it was all about me being the only child and ‘carrying on the Petrov legacy.’ Not only did I want to play Metal, I wasn’t about to marry and give them the grandchildren they so desperately want, so…” He shrugged. “You’re lucky your folks love you. Mine only loved me when they thought I was what they want me to be.”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry.” Owen’s issues with his mum felt like nothing compared to the crap Luka was going through. “My parents didn’t have an issue with me being bi, once they got what it meant.” He chewed his lip. “That’s one hell of a lot of unreasonable expectations. At some point, you’ve got to live your life for you.” Yeah, and he’d done that so well before he’d met Jared. “Easier said than done, though. Your dreams, not theirs.” He regretted his words as soon as he’d spoken. “And you sure as hell don’t need me saying all that either. Sorry.”

Luka ran a hand through his hair. “No, look, I’m sorry. You’re fine. You didn’t need me dumping that on you. It’s been kind of a shit day, and I get in a mood when I feel like I have no control over anything.”

“You’re not dumping on me, and it’s fine.” Owen wished he could do something to help and hoped he hadn’t made Luka’s mood worse by rambling on. “I escape into music when I get like that. It helps.” He gestured to Luka’s cello. “Guessing that’s what the Shostakovich was. I find Beethoven good for that.”

To his relief, Luka chuckled. “Yeah, or some Metallica. You should bring your ‘fiddle’ over sometime this weekend, we could totally thrill the unwashed masses with some of the Ariel Quartet. I could even get Dmitri to play violin. He’s a switch in more ways than one.”

“Seriously?” Owen stared at him, open-mouthed. “That would be amazing. I had no idea Dmitri plays violin as well.” A thought occurred to him, and he admitted it sheepishly. “You know what’s crazy? When I play with the band, I think of my violin as a fiddle. When I play classical, it’s a violin. I really need to get over that.”

“Yes, I’m serious,” Luka confirmed. “And Dmitri will deign to use a ‘tiny cello’ on occasion. As long you don’t go making bets with any hillbillies with your instrument, call it whatever you’d like.”

Owen chuckled. “Not really any hillbillies around our way, so I think I’m safe.” He turned at the sound of footsteps behind him. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jared kissed Owen’s cheek. He’d taken longer collecting their water bottles than he needed. Had he seen Owen and Luka talking and given them some time to connect? “Wondered where you got to. Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Luka, this is my boyfriend, Jared. Jared, Luka.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jared slipped his arm around Owen’s waist. “Love your band, and looking forward to you playing.” He’d already figured out who Luka was, but then how many cellists would there be at Rocktoberfest?

Luka raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. Nice to meet you as well. We go on tomorrow night. When are you up?”

“Tomorrow afternoon,” Owen said. “Slot before Grindstone.” Already, their trip was bordering on surreal. Chatting with Luka from the F-Holes, on top of playing before Grindstone, made it an experience he wasn’t about to forget.

“Hopefully, I’ll get a chance to see you perform.” Luka stood. “I should get back on the bus. They’ll probably come looking for me soon. Later!”

“Later!” Owen watched Luka pick up his cello and led Jared away. “Such a nice guy,” he said once they were out of earshot. “He’s invited me to play with him and Dmitri sometime this weekend.”

Jared’s grip tightened around Owen’s waist. “Sounds like fun. I’d love to listen.” He paused and glanced back at the bus. “If that’s okay, of course.”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” Owen frowned, and the penny dropped. “We chatted about music and other stuff. No flirting, I promise.” He shrugged. No way would Luka be interested in him. “And besides, I’m taken. Very taken.”

“Definitely.” Jared scowled, then sighed. “Sorry. He’s a good-looking guy, and whatever you were talking about seemed… intense.” He looked sheepish. “Guess I overreacted and kind of staked my claim a bit.”

“Really?” Owen gestured to a space between two vans, turned in Jared’s arms, and kissed him fiercely. “You’re mine, and while you doing that is hot, there’s no need for it.”

He leaned his forehead against Jared’s, both of them breathing heavily.

“Yeah, sorry.” Jared sounded sheepish. “Acted without thinking. Not usually my thing.”

“Yeah, I know, and it’s fine.” Owen glanced at his watch, surprised at how long he and Luka had chatted. “I figure Tyler and Phil have had their time.” He nibbled on Jared’s ear. “Want me to remind you we belong together?” He licked down Jared’s neck.

Fuck, that groan was sexy as hell.

“Fuck, yeah.” Jared’s voice was hoarse. “Let’s go make some music of our own.”