Half Notes and Highlights (The Road to Rocktoberfest 2024)

CHAPTER FOUR

Sipping his morning coffee, Tyler stared at the picturesque mountains in the distance. He still wasn’t used to waking up to such a beautiful view every day, and the quiet was nice. In New York, he woke up to noisy traffic and sirens.

He planned on visiting his new studio today to start setting up and maybe do some shopping to personalize the space. He was also looking forward to seeing it in person. The agent had taken him on a virtual tour, and he had the square footage, but it was still hard to visualize.

An incoming call interrupted his thoughts. He studied the number on the screen which looked familiar, but he couldn’t place it. “Hello?” he answered, hesitantly.

“This is Paul Landry, Wolf Pack’s manager. Ethan Jones needs you to come by right away. He’s having an issue with his hair.”

“What’s wrong? I thought he liked it.” Ethan didn’t exactly say he liked his haircut. He said he didn’t hate it, but Tyler made sure the rock star didn’t want anything else done before he left the salon. It’s been a day and a half. What the hell could have happened?

“He just doesn’t know what to do with it. We’re still at the hotel. I can have a car pick you up in under an hour. You’ll be well compensated.”

Phrasing it in the form of a question would have been nice, but Tyler was used to dealing with wealthy entitlement, and he’d love to see the sexy rock star again. “Of course. I want all my clients to be 100% happy with their hairstyle.”

A pair of bodyguards escorted Tyler to Ethan’s hotel room, not back to the salon in the lobby. The entire floor was quiet, and he imagined that management booked all the rooms in order to ensure privacy and enforce security.

As soon as Tyler entered the fancy suite, Ethan rushed in from the other room, arms outstretched and panic on his face. “Look at my hair!”

Tyler was unable to suppress his grin, but at least he didn’t outright laugh. Ethan’s hair was plastered to his head with some kind of gel, so he looked like a hitman from the ‘50s. “What did you do to it?”

“I just put product in it, like you said.”

Tyler sauntered over and reached up to touch Ethan’s hair. It was hard as a rock and barely moved. “It feels like a helmet. What did you use?”

Ethan raced into the bathroom and raced back out with a giant jar that contained a thick, clear substance with air bubbles and looked like something his grandfather might use. “I said to use texturizing product. Like mousse. Where did you even buy that?”

“Wolf got it for me. My bass player.”

A laugh fell from Tyler’s mouth before he could stop it. “I’m sorry. I think your friend was punking you. No one in our generation uses something like that.”

Ethan closed his eyes and pressed his lips together while his nostrils flared. “That fucker.”

“Not to worry.” Tyler held up his big stylist’s bag. I brought all my supplies. First, we need to wash that gunk out of your hair.” He looked over his shoulder at one of the bodyguards. “Do you have access to a fire hose?”

The bodyguard didn’t answer or react, but Ethan’s mouth dropped open.

“I’m just kidding. Lighten up.”

“I can’t lighten up. No one has seen me with short hair yet. The media and fans are going to have a field day with the news. I don’t want to be ridiculed and made fun of.”

That touched Tyler’s heart. Having never spent one second in the closet, he proudly displayed his gayness from the moment he was born. His mom, who embraced and supported him from day one, had often said he came into the world singing “Born This Way” by Lady Gaga. Naturally, it was an exaggeration, but not by much, and he had been bullied almost his entire life because of it. “Oh, hell no,” he stated, waving an index finger in the air and planting a fist on his hip. “No one makes fun of a Tyler Kennedy haircut.” He dropped the cutesy responses and spoke in his most serious voice—one which he rarely used. “I would never let anyone make fun of you. I’ll stay here as long as it takes until you’re comfortable with styling your own hair. I know how important it is to feel confident with your appearance. Besides—” He perked up and displayed an animated grin. “When the paparazzi asks you about your hair, you’re gonna drop my name like an atom bomb, and I’ll be booking appointments into next year. Now, let’s get you washed, and I’ll show you how to style that gorgeous head of hair. Is the sink big enough or do you want to jump in the shower?”

“Only if you come with me.” A spark lit up Ethan’s dark eyes.

The unexpected invitation made Tyler’s internal thermometer shoot sky high, but all he could do was stand there with a shocked expression on his face.

“To help with this mess,” Ethan quickly clarified, motioning to his hair and stuttering over his words. “I . . . I . . .”

Tyler waved his hand at Ethan dismissively. “Just get in the shower.”

While Ethan showered, Tyler tried to get ahold of his hormones. Subtlety wasn’t his specialty. His flirtatious nature was part of his personality. But he was a professional and wasn’t about to cross a line with a client just because they were famous and were used to people falling into bed with them. Or because they were hot as hell.

Ethan was taking a long time in the shower, and Tyler started to think the guy was doing more than just washing his hair in there. The idea that Ethan was taking care of business in the bathroom intrigued Tyler, so he pressed his ear to the bathroom door, because he was nosey like that. It suddenly opened, and he jumped. So did Ethan.

Tyler took in the dripping wet rock star in front of him, who was wearing nothing but a crisp white towel. Water rivulets rolled down Ethan’s perfect chest. One held a particular interest, and Tyler followed it as it made its way over the mounds of muscle that resided on Ethan’s torso and right into the happy trail that peeked out the top of the terry cloth.

“Oh. Sorry,” Ethan said. “I didn’t know you were on the other side of the door. I left my robe in the bedroom.”

For probably the first time in his life, Tyler was speechless and stood there with his mouth hanging open. Put your tongue back in your mouth. He’s a client, the voice in Tyler’s head told him in a singsong voice.

A crooked smile spread across Ethan’s face. “Are you going to let me by? Or do you want to give me a hand?”

The “hand” part of the sentence somehow turned into “hand job” in Tyler’s head, and he let out a wild laugh. “You wish. Go get dressed, rock star.”

While Ethan headed to the bedroom to put on fresh clothes, Tyler set up his various hair products and styling equipment in the bathroom. There was a vanity with a chair and plenty of counter space, so it was the perfect setting.

“Is this better?” Ethan stood just inside the bathroom wearing tight AF jeans and an even tighter T-shirt.

Tyler quickly shook his head to clear it and tapped the back of the vanity chair. “Have a seat.”

Once Ethan was sitting facing the mirror, Tyler ran his fingers through Ethan’s hair and focused on the job at hand. “OK. Let’s start. The first thing you want to do is towel-dry your hair.” He took the smaller towel off the bar in the bathroom and squeezed sections of Ethan’s hair. “Be gentle, or you’ll get the frizzies, and no one want’s frizzies.” When he sufficiently reduced the amount of water in Ethan’s hair, he tossed the towel aside and rubbed a chunk of Ethan’s soft, silky locks between his fingers. “Feel it, so you can assess the water content. You don’t want it to be too wet.”

Ethan reached up to touch his hair, purposely brushing his fingers against Tyler’s.

Tyler inhaled a deep breath and grabbed the hair product. “Next, take a big handful of texturizing mousse.”

“How big is big?” Ethan asked, a sexy smile on his lips.

A series of short suggestive chuckles left Tyler’s mouth while he kept his eyes lowered. “Use your imagination, rock star.” He held up his hand which had a giant blob of mousse in the center. “Rub it between your palms. Then push your fingers through your hair and distribute it all over.”

“So, I rub it between my palms and then smear it all over my head?”

Tyler froze while a flush of heat covered his body, starting from his crotch and running all the way up to his cheeks. “Can someone turn up the air conditioning!” he yelled over his shoulder into the next room.

“It is getting hot in here, isn’t it?” Ethan asked, playfully.

Pressing his lips together so he didn’t reply with something outlandishly inappropriate, Tyler wiped his hands on the towel and picked up the hair dryer. “You can just style your hair with your fingers like this, or if you want to bend over—”

“Bend over?” Ethan asked, brows raised. “I’m a top, baby.”

Tyler burst out laughing and dropped the hair dryer to his side. This was, by far, the most shameless fun he’d ever had doing someone’s hair. “You’re so naughty!”

“Me? You’re the one telling me to rub things between my palms and bend over.”

“So I can dry your hair. And people tell me I have a one-track mind.”

“You were thinking the same thing. Don’t deny it.”

Tyler hadn’t thought of it, but surely would have if Ethan hadn’t made the remark first. He raised the hair dryer, determined to get through with styling Ethan’s hair before things went too far. “I’m going to finish drying your hair, and I’m not saying anything else. Just pay attention to what I’m doing.” He took a second to fan himself, because he was beginning to sweat. What happened to the damn air conditioning?

He finished drying Ethan’s hair, demonstrating how to style it with his fingers. Then he leaned in front of Ethan to adjust the strands of hair that framed Ethan’s face. The guy really did have the most exquisite cheek bones, and that strong jaw was to die for.

With their faces only inches apart, they locked eyes. Tyler froze, and his throat went dry. A hot tingle ran down his back, and he held his breath.

Ethan’s throat bobbed, and his tongue darted out to lick those plump, rosy lips. It was an inviting gesture that sent Tyler’s blood racing.

This. Wasn’t. Good.

He suddenly stood up straight. “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Ethan acted surprised and brought one hand to his chest. “I’m not doing anything. What are you doing? You’re supposed to be showing me how to do my hair. Instead, you’re batting your eyes at me like a schoolgirl and throwing around phrases like bend over.”

“Flirting like a schoolgirl?” Genuine laughter flowed from Tyler’s mouth. “If I was flirting with you, I’d get to the point. I wouldn’t be running my fingers through your hair. I’d be running them down your—” Oh, fuck. Tyler stopped speaking and gulped. Rolling up the cord to his hair dryer and stuffing everything into his bag, he said, “I’m done here. You can handle styling your hair as long as you have the right product. It’s very simple. Here.” Tyler picked up the mousse, showed it to Ethan and left it on the bathroom counter. “Use this. If you need anything else, have your manager call me. It’s been a pleasure.”

When Tyler was about to exit the bathroom, Ethan said, “We both know you’re not done here. Not by a longshot.”

Tyler stopped for exactly three seconds but never turned around, and then shot out of the hotel room before the two of them ended up on the bathroom floor.

Ethan watched Tyler sprint out of the hotel room like his pants were on fire. Hopefully they were, because Ethan’s sure were. Tyler was the cutest, funniest, and most captivating person he’d ever met. And he was one hell of a hairstylist. Ethan’s hair looked awesome. He admired it in the mirror and was beginning to like his hair this length. It seemed easy enough to style now that he had the right product. His gaze drifted to the mousse that Tyler left on the bathroom counter and then to the jar of sticky, clear gel Wolf had given him. “That fucker,” he muttered again.

He marched out of his hotel suite and pounded on the door across the hall. “Wolf! You’re a dead man. Open the fucking door.” It swung open, but Marshall was standing there with a huge grin on his face.

“What’s up?” his friend asked.

“You know exactly what’s up.” Ethan pushed past Marshall and into the suite. He found Wolf sitting on the couch with Harris, who was twirling a drumstick between his fingers and staring intently at the TV. “What the fuck?” Ethan asked, his arms spread wide.

“Hey.” Harris never looked up, but Wolf broke into hysterical laughter.

“You fucking suck.” Ethan picked up a throw pillow from the side chair and tossed it at Wolf. “I had to wash my hair three times in the shower to get that junk out.”

“What about the burn on your arm?” Wolf asked, concern obliterating his laughter.

“I had to wear a giant rubber glove over my bandage. I looked like I was about to birth a calf.”

Wolf burst out laughing again, Harris remained focused on the TV, and Marshall came up beside Ethan smiling like a moron. “It was my idea,” Marshall admitted. “To get you back for putting all that hot sauce on my taco last week.”

“That was different. This is my hair.” The pranks they played on one another were ridiculous and childish, but for the most part, they were fun, unless you were the one on the receiving end. “Did you forget that I was in a fucking accident and had to chop it all off?”

Wolf stood up and cupped Ethan’s face in his hands and kissed his cheek. “Aw. Sorry, buddy. I was just having a little fun. I just wish I was there to see your face when you put that junk in your hair.”

Ethan gave Wolf a light shove in the chest, a smile breaking through now that the ordeal was over. “You still suck. But you better watch your back. Payback’s a bitch.”

“Payback? It’s all good. Look at your hair.” Wolf motioned to it with his hand. “It looks just as good as when you first got it cut and styled the other day.”

“Yeah. Because I got that hot hairstylist to come back and fix it for me.”

Intrigued, Wolf raised his brows. “He’s hot? How hot?”

“Very hot. It’s Tyler Kennedy. You know who he is, right?”

Wolf nodded. “Yeah, but I never saw a picture of him.”

Harris looked up from the TV and finally joined the conversation. “I didn’t know it was Tyler Kennedy. He’s cute.”

Wolf picked up his phone and started tapping on it. “Let’s see what this guy looks like.” After scrolling for a few seconds, he stared at his phone, his brows went up and down, and he grinned. “He’s really fucking hot. Does he share?”

Ethan didn’t answer, and Wolf looked at him funny. The two had often shared guys in the past, as recently as a couple of weeks ago when a groupie found his way onto their tour bus. The sexual relationship Ethan and Wolf shared, which had been ongoing since they were teens, was open and fun. They were best friends and each other’s firsts. It was casual and without strings. Although they had always dated other people, they still always found their way into each other’s bed.

“Does he share?” Wolf repeated brows high on his forehead as he waited for an answer.

“I don’t know,” Ethan replied, honestly. “But I don’t think I want to share this one.”