Black Hurricane

The Flying Frenchman is a mid-sized bar on the Harbor Walk, just 5 minutes on a skateboard from where I live.It's dingy and dingy, day and night, with regulars and a mediocre house band.Occasionally new guests arrive, mostly curious tourists looking for a place to rest in between sightseeing.It gets a little more lively at night, with the occasional fight, but mostly just music, drinks and people playing pool.At The Flying Frenchman, people don't dance much, because most of the regulars are the kind of dudes who understand dancing as a beat with a beer in one hand and the other on their lap.Just because they don't dance doesn't mean they don't like the music, they complain when the band takes a break.At this time, the store manager would urge me to take the guitar to perform on stage to appease the guests, until the band slowly finished drinking beer and smoking.

I don't mind.The guests seemed to enjoy my little show, and even a few girls were swooning. The Flying French isn't the kind of place where you can show your Kiriki side to your guests, so I return the girls with flirtatious smiles and a little naiveté so as not to end up with their jealous boyfriends Fat beating.Quite a few of the regulars are big, big bikers, and even if I'm never a pussy in a fight, any one of them can punch me and knock me out.Interestingly though, I was on the same shift as a bartender and we were both crooked.I don't know if the regulars are anti-gay or not.I was once criticized for my childish, almost feminine appearance.It's no big deal, I just take it as deafness and gossip, not genuine homophobia.

"There aren't many people tonight." Karl-Eyer leaned over the pool table, concentrating on adjusting the angle of the cue.

I stacked the dirty cups on the floor and shrugged. "Today is thursday."

Kal-El flicked his back club and slammed the white ball so that the blue ball spun into the hole in the corner.

"Are you going to 'crash' this Friday?" he asked, looking for his next target. "Benji said there was a disco themed party."

I piled the cups on the table and wiped away the puddles of water on the floor. "Huh, disco, for real? Why can't they have a 'goth night'? That place is going to die."

"Oh don't pretend, it's not going to end there. Besides, I know you have a pair of silver sequined dance pants in your drawer." He said with a smirk

"Dude, don't be so loud," I whispered, as a couple of tall bikers walked to the nearby pool table for a game.

"You can also borrow some gear from Eric," Kal-El continued, ignoring the bikers next to him and leaning over to the red ball.

"Eric the little guy. I can't fit in his clothes."

Kal-El snorted and took a sip of his beer.

"Jess," Jordan, another bartender on the same shift, called me from the other side of the bar, greeting the newcomer.

Sighing, I picked up the stack of glasses, and a blond man approached Kal-El.The hair looked familiar, blonde and curly, pulled back into a low ponytail.His passer-by face was unimpressive, but there must be something familiar to me, but certainly not because of his faded jeans and white T-shirt.

"Is this inning over?" he asked Kal-El, who nodded and put the ball back together.

I shook off the strange feeling and went into the tiny back kitchen to put the glass in the dishwasher.Jordan poked his head into the kitchen and motioned for me to come out and help.I walked away from the sink and headed for the door.

Besides the blond, there were at least fifteen new guests, and everyone wanted a drink.

"Is there any non-alcoholic drink?" A deep voice sounded from my right.

"Yes," I replied, turning around before I recognized the voice from memory.

Dean Summerfield—or Dean McQueen—was sitting between two bodyguards, a smug smile on his face.This time I was off guard, I never thought he would come to "The Flying Frenchman".I stared straight, my heart was beating like a drum, and my fingers were numb.He looked great in dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt, with his hair pulled back in a low ponytail and a dark gray beret atop his head.Although he wears a black string necklace with a silver spider hanging around his neck and three leather bracelets on his hands, it is not enough to make him stand out in the crowd, because almost every biker around is wearing fancy accessories.You'd have to look closely to recognize him as Dean McQueen -- rock star Dean McQueen.

I looked around quietly.Jordan is taking orders for the Asian guy in the band while the drummer waits.Surrounded by two other bodyguards, and all kinds of instantly recognizable flesh and blood ①, there are men and women, chatting with superstars.

Note ①: groupie refers to the fanatical groupie who lives with the band members.

"Jess." Jordan elbowed me in the arm. "Go to work."

I turned to one of the fans, a chocolate-skinned boy with platinum-blond hair that shaded his brown eyebrows.Unlike Eric, this guy's hair is definitely dyed.This, together with his thick base makeup, artificial makeup, and cool attire, make him look like a pheasant who only "adds drama" to himself.Eric can be a showman sometimes, but not as artificial as he is.The flesh and blood ordered a glass of bubble gum cocktail to add a sense of drama to himself.

I quickly order one by one for the gang, avoiding seeing Dean or ordering for him.I don't know if he's still here.I hope Jordan has ordered for him and he's going to sit at the table, preferably already gone.When everyone on the left of the bar had ordered, I grabbed the towel and walked straight to the back kitchen.

"Jess," Jordan called to me, blocking my way. "The man over there wants you to serve him." He pointed behind him with his thumb.

I took a deep breath and knew who that person was without even thinking about it.

"Can't you place the order for him?" I raised my eyebrows at Jordan.

"He said he wanted you."

"Fuck," I mutter, looking down at the toes of my worn sneakers on the tile floor.

Jordan put his hand on my shoulder. "Did he trouble you?"

I shrugged at him and walked past him. "I'm fine."

I deliberately lowered my head and approached Dean, who was still sandwiched between two troll-like bodyguards.I tried to act like I didn't care that he was there.He was just a guest.

"What would you like to order?" I asked as I was busy wiping the already stained cup.He didn't speak, and I fell into his trap as soon as I looked up.He got my attention with a triumphant grin on his face.

He rested his elbows on the edge of the table. "I want to order you."

I raised my arms in front of him, frowning. "I'm not on the menu," I said calmly, trying to sound natural.But it's so hard to look into the eyes of someone I once loved and now hate, I'm surprised my head isn't on fire yet.

His flirtatious smile turned into a smirk. "But I really want you."

I gritted my teeth and clutched the towel in my hand. "Unfortunately, Star, you can't always get what you want." I turned to go back to the kitchen, but Wilder, the store manager, was sitting at the other end of the bar watching closely.Damn it, I can't lose this job.The last time I was late because I forgot the time while drawing, I was given a final warning.I can't even use packing the glasses as an excuse, because Jordan just bursts out the door with a tray in his hand and starts packing.

I turned back to Dean. "Have you thought of something better?"

"If I give you a tip of 1000 yuan, would you like to open a room with me?"

I moved closer and lowered my voice and said, "I don't sell myself. I have other things to do if you don't order. If you are here to harass me, I advise you to stop in time before I tell the regulars here You're a fag, let them kick you out as a superstar."

The two bodyguards stared at me, but I still stared at Dean coldly.Dean kept his chin in his hand and rested his other hand on the table. "God, you're so beautiful, especially when you're angry." The smile on his lips contained a hint of playfulness, and a hint of... I don't know, appreciate it?Well, it turned out that he was the kind of guy who liked to take the initiative, but probably he never had the chance to chase people, because the people around him fell to him like moths to a flame.

"Jace, are you okay?" Kal-El asked from across the bar.

Dean frowned when he saw my friend, and I swallowed hard.Maybe I've changed a lot since Dean last saw me, but Kal-El hasn't, he's taller and stronger, but not much different.In addition to eyeliner, mascara, ostentatious hairstyles and many piercings on lips, eyebrows and ears.Kal-El wasn't my friend when I was with Dean, but one look at Kal-El will definitely bring back Dean's memory of the word "high school" and he might go from "high school" to next think of me.How long does it take him to think about it?

"Jess, it's your turn," Wilder said, and I had to pull away from Dean's probing eyes to realize what Wilder was saying.The opponent turned his head to signal the stage.

Oh no.One, I don't want to sing in front of a crowd of rock stars; two, I'm really not in the mood to sing; and three, I'll probably know who I am once I speak.

Towards the end of my first year in high school, I finally worked up the courage to talk to him, and singing became a regular thing we both did together.His friends were away for a long time that summer, so he and I spent a lot of time behind the abandoned factory building, playing and singing with his guitar.We even wrote a song together called "The Whore of Hades."He wrote the lyrics and I composed the music - I used the music I composed to express my feelings for him.Yes, I know it doesn't sound like a love song.I deliberately hid it.

Years later when I heard "Black Hurricane" sing this song, I ran like crazy to Kal-El's house - because I don't have a computer myself - I went online to see if I was credited, but no, not a single word Mentioned my dick.Do people know this slow song about a boy falling in love with another boy?People don't know because Dean in the MV is yearning for a girl.He hadn't come out then.

But Dean had already figured it out.His eyes flicked back and forth between me and Kal-El, his lips pursed.Then it took almost a minute to look me over from head to toe.

Damn it.

I tossed the towel and stepped onto the stage.The guitar slung over my shoulders seemed heavier than ever, and I felt like a rooster on a pole while sitting on a bar stool.I randomly strum the strings to buy time.I felt like I was going to throw up, not just from nervousness, but from anger and frustration.He's about to recognize me, and if he hasn't already, I'll probably give him a grand introduction, but I'm eager to see his reaction.Better yet, he'll realize he once had me, and then he'll throw me far away, leaving me alone to suffer.

My voice is not as deep as his, but it is as soft as his.Our chorus sounded very nice when we were young.I never sang it at "The Flying Frenchman" because the guests liked rock more than slow songs, although the middle and the end of this slow song are quite rocky.Actually, I haven't sung this song in years.

When I played the intro to "The Whore of Hades" soothingly, people fell silent and listened.When I opened my mouth to sing, I saw Dean's face suddenly realized, and I closed my eyes.

"Cigarettes with flames,

Tears follow desire,

I, never free,

in the stormy sea,

I scream my wish,

But please meet. "

Well, maybe I'm hiding my feelings in this song, but he doesn't know I'm singing about him.Maybe he just didn't know it at the time, or maybe he already knew it.

I plucked the strings, waiting to see him turn away, but at first he just gaped, then his lips tightened, his brow furrowed, and then when I reached the chorus, he turned his attention to the glass in his hand .

"I cry out:

torture and war,

It's Pluto whore.

Love and hate go hand in hand,

pulling endlessly,

My heart will always please you. "

I looked away from Dean and kept my eyes closed.This song took me back to the abandoned factory, surrounded by wild bushes and the only grassy field free of broken glass.No other kids were playing there, just the two of us.There we had our first kiss towards the end of summer.There, we touched and explored each other's bodies for the first time, he was so confident and I was so nervous, I couldn't believe that he really wanted me, I was 14 and in love.

"Shards of glass

scattered on the grass

People fell, people trampled, people trampled. "

"You sit next to me,

watch me cry:

Never be free. "

I strum the strings and raise my voice on the chorus.

"I cry out:

torture and war,

It's Pluto whore.

Love and hate go hand in hand,

pulling endlessly,

My heart will always please you. "

I sang the chorus twice more, and now almost the whole room is singing with me.After that, I dialed a few more notes, and ended the song peacefully and slowly.

The applause that erupted on the field has never been so enthusiastic, but there have never been so many flesh and blood present before.They're sitting at a few tables around the Black Hurricane crew, smiling at me, except for the two fanboys who are hanging around Dean, one of which is the playboy.Dean himself is looking at me wistfully, like he's worried that I'm going to sue him for stealing the song, but I don't have a single bit of proof that it's mine, so he can rest easy leave.

But he didn't.He listened quietly to me singing two more songs, approaching me as I left the stage.The band members came closer, and I stopped to look for Kal-El with my eyes, and my friend came from one end, pushed the crowd away from me, and came to me.

"Dude, you're awesome!" said Yin, an Asian man, as everyone called him.

"You sang it absolutely. You sang "The Whore of Hades" better than Dean, who wrote it," Maxim said with a big smile on his face.

I put my hands in my hip pockets and stared at Dean, he had a look of resentment on his face.I want him to either leave quickly or just say something.His whole presence makes me restless.This tension is like an electric current, like an invisible force, every time he takes a step towards me, this invisible force will make me more tense.

"Excuse me." I pushed them away hard, but one hand was firmly on my chest to prevent me from leaving.

"Jasper," Dean whispered, his fingertips almost digging into my chest. "Can we talk?"

I let out a long breath and slowly removed his hands from my chest. "My name is Jess," I said curtly, "and I have a job."

Dean hung out at the bar all night until late at night when I left.Before he could get up from the stool, Kal-El led me straight to the back door and into his car.I don't want to talk to Dean, and I have nothing to talk about.