Ace woke up on Wednesday morning having slept better than he thought he might.
He dreamed about Pete. In his dream, the two of them were sitting side by side in a bus shelter, holding hands, waiting for their ride. It was late at night, and the last bus of the evening was on the way. It was quiet, and there was nobody else around. Ace wasn't sure where they were going, or even which city they were in, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he and Pete were sitting together. In his dream, Ace felt warm, loved, and at peace.
As his eyes blinked open, the beautiful feeling from his dream remained with him for a fraction of a second, but it dissolved as reality intruded. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he woke up.
He remembered that he and Pete broke up last night, and a part of him felt lost.
Ace still wanted him, though he knew he couldn't have him anymore. But on the upside, they hadn't been together for very long, and he felt sure they'd be friends forever. Most of their relationship had been spent living in different states, and no matter how strong his feelings for Ass To Mouth's sexy drummer, he worried that it might've become harder and harder over time to maintain a connection. Especially because Ace found it almost impossible to keep his dick in his pants.
He got up, pulled on a t-shirt and boxers, and took a piss before flopping down onto his couch.
Ace knew there'd never be a shortage of sex in his life. Fuck, there were dozens of metalheads, goths and femboys in Florida who wanted him bad. He'd toned down his fuckboi persona while he and Pete were together, but now that there was no longer any need for him to restrain his primal urges, he fired up Grindr.
If there was anything on earth that was guaranteed to put Ace in a good mood, it was hot sex with a hot dude. Or a hot femboy.
It took just five minutes for him to get five taps, three of which were pre-Pete bootycalls. He was just about to re-share his explicit, private album with a fat-assed long-haired dude he used to boink on the regular when a call came in.
He recognised the number as soon as he looked at the screen -- it was the same set of digits Pete read out to him over the phone last night, just before they broke up. They belonged to Candii, the rep from Swallow Records.
Ace's heart began to race with anticipation. 'Don't be over-eager,' he told himself. 'This could be a big break for us, so play it cool.'
He let it ring a little longer before pressing the green button to accept the call. "Hello?" he answered. He heard a female voice on the other end of the line.
"Uhh, hello," responded Candii. "Am I speaking with Ace?"
"Yeah, that's me, I'm Ace." He flicked his blonde locks away from his ear. "Who's calling?" Candii's voice was a little deeper than he'd expected.
Candii cleared her throat. "Hi, Ace. My name is Candii, and I'm with a Canadian record label called Swallow."
"Nice of you to call," said Ace. "What can I do for you?"
"Ace, are you in a band called Boipussy?"
"Yeah", he confirmed, "I am. Why do you ask?"
"Cool, so I've dialled the right number. I want to proposition you," Candii disclosed. She cleared her throat again. "Wait. Sorry. Please let me rephrase that. I have a proposition for you. And for your band."
"Sounds interesting," said Ace, trying hard to keep his nerves in check.
"We recently signed a band from Atlanta to our label. They're called Ass To Mouth," Candii explained. "I believe you know them? Anyway, they recently completed a short tour of Canada, and I caught them in action at two of their shows. I was recently talking with A2M's drummer about a tour Swallow Records is planning in the States to showcase some promising new metal acts. I mentioned to him that I've been hearing good things about a Florida band called Boipussy, and he told me that you'd played a few gigs together lately. He suggested that I check you out."
"Did you get my number from Pete?" asked Ace.
"Yeah," Candii replied, noticing that Ace had referred to Ass To Mouth's drummer by his first name. "I hope that's cool with you?"
"Of course it is. No problem." Ace remained silent, waiting for Candii to continue.
Ace's voice was doing something to Candii's crotch that she couldn't quite understand. She scratched the shaft of her cock through her panties. "Anyway," she said, "I followed his advice. I checked out some of your online demoes last night, and I found a short clip of Boipussy on youtube. The upload looked like it was filmed on someone's phone. Even though the sound quality wasn't great, I was impressed with what I heard, and if I can be honest, Ace, it seemed to me like you had a stage presence. If I can cut to the chase, I'd love to get Boipussy on the tour. You rock hard. Pete told me you guys play a ... umm ... a tight live set." She paused for a second. "That was definitely the word he used to describe you. Tight."
Ace wondered if Pete had said anything about the buttplug Ace regularly wore onstage. He wasn't into women, but maybe this Candii bitch might still be impressed in some way by his stage gimmick.
"Wow," said Ace, "that's amazing news. Thanks for your offer. I need to check with the rest of the band before I can confirm. It sounds enticing, but I need to be honest upfront about something first."
"What's that?" Candii asked.
"While we aspire for Boipussy to be the biggest band in the world," Ace explained, "our current financial situation isn't healthy. I mean, we've been playing together for fucking years ... oops, sorry about the language, miss ... and we get lots of work in Florida, but I don't know how many people know us outside the south-east, and we each have day jobs so we can pay the rent. Like, I mean, we're aching to be successful, and we think we've got what it takes, but it's hard to move to the next rung on the ladder right now. We have a bank account (Ace remembered just how hard it was to register an account with the name Boipussy), but there isn't much money in it. Whenever we get paid for a gig, the money gets recycled into more equipment. Guitar repairs, a more powerful bass rig, better drums. You get the picture."
On the other end of the phone line, Candii nodded. "I certainly do get the picture, Ace. I know how it goes. I've been in this business for a few years. And that might be where I come in."
"Huh?"
"This tour could be the break Boipussy needs, Ace."
Ace waited a few seconds before responding. "I hear what you're saying, Candii, and it sounds like a fuckin' awesome opportunity, but I'm not sure. I mean, like I said, we don't have enough money. We can't afford it." He remembered the sweet financial deal Pete explained to him last night, and he hoped Candii would offer the same to Ace.
Candii knew how the industry worked. Bands slogged their guts out on stage, travelling from gig to gig on their own dime, staying in the cheapest motels available and barely eating anything, to save as much money as they could. Most bands earned just enough to pay for their gear and rehearsal time, and if they were lucky, they had some extra cash set aside to cut a demo in a recording studio. She assumed A2M were in a better financial position to Boipussy if they could afford a Canada tour, but she didn't know anything about the money Gorilla left Carlos when he died that had all been spent. Take that away, and A2M were just as broke as their Florida compatriots, and their bank account was stuck in the same endless loop.
"I've seen too many bands work their local circuit to death, playing every gig on offer," Candii replied, "but never getting the break they need to move to the next level. I've seen bands split up in frustration, where members end up hating each other and blaming each other for the rest of their failed lives. I've seen deep friendships ruined and lives destroyed. I'm sure you've seen this too, Ace, and I'm sure you're scared of it happening to Boipussy. We've never met, but I'm sure you're worldly enough to know that talent, ability and potential isn't enough. Sometimes, a little bit of luck can go a long way."
She loved being a fairy trans-mother for cute rocker boys.
"Here's the deal," Candii continued. "Swallow Records will be organising the entire itinerary. That includes dates, venues, accommodation and transport for the duration of the tour. All Boipussy needs to do is to get yourselves and your equipment to the first show, and to get yourselves back home after the last one. Can your bank account stretch that far?"
"Yeah," Ace replied. "Yeah, I think so." (He genuinely wasn't sure. He'd need to check. But if they didn't have enough money in their account, he'd take out a personal loan.)
"The only catch," Candii explained, "is that we can't guarantee any of the bands will make any money. If the festival tanks, Swallow is insured, but each band will only take a split of the profits if the festival is financially successful. You might not make any money, but you won't stand to lose any either. One thing I *can* guarantee you is that you'll get to play in front of new audiences that haven't heard of you before, you'll be able to network with other bands on the label, and you'll be able to make some cash on the side by selling your own merchandise, if you have any."
Ace remembered joking to Pete last night about getting some t-shirts printed if Boipussy got on the bill. He smiled. This sounded fucking amazing. He'd kept his cool so far, and while he could feel the conversation reaching its conclusion, he needed to remain level-headed until it was over. "I can't commit on behalf of the band without talking to the other members first, but it'll be easier to explain your plan to them if I can give them some information. What's it going to be called?"
