Beautiful Thunder

By Louise Lyons

Can romance and rock ‘n’ roll dreams survive with a storm raging around them?
Alex Randall has always wanted to be a rock singer. When he answers an ad from a local band, his dream finally comes true. He loves the stage, and the group’s fans love him. Things couldn’t be better, except for the attraction he develops for the band’s guitarist, Lindsey. Alex is surprised and initially worried, since he only had one brief flirtation with a boy in his teens. But even though he and Lindsey become close and start seeing each other, Alex fears commitment, and Lindsey worries that Alex might only be experimenting.
When Lindsey’s ex contacts him following a health scare, fear and anger drives a wedge between Alex and Lindsey, which causes rifts within the band. Alex and Lindsey’s relationship is still new and fragile, and with Alex unwittingly blaming Lindsey for their problems, it becomes a true challenge for them to weather the storm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Louise Lyons
• Release date: Jan 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005200558

Louise Lyons

I'm a gay romance author from the UK, having started in my late teens writing Fanfiction with a number of different films/TV series for inspiration. My reviews prompted me to try publishing some works and my first book was released in 2014. Since then, I've published several novels and novellas, and a collection of short stories.Most of the books published through official publishing channels have now had the rights returned to me for various reasons, so I'm re-issuing them myself.

Book preview

Beautiful Thunder

by

Louise Lyons

COPYRIGHT

Beautiful Thunder © 2022 Louise Lyons

Second Edition

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

WARNING

This book contains material that is intended for a mature, adult audience. It contains graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER ONE

I unfolded the crumpled copy of The Recorder, Nottingham’s free newspaper which I’d grabbed from the hallway on my way up to my maisonette. I was lucky enough to have snapped up the best duplex available in the block on Newcastle Drive. I had a decent-sized lounge, an open-plan kitchen that I rarely used, and two double bedrooms upstairs. The best thing about it in my opinion, was it was only half a mile from Rock City—the best rock club in the world.

I spread the paper out on the kitchen counter while I waited for the kettle to boil. I eagerly scanned down the music ad section, hoping to find the word singer in one of the notices. There were plenty of requests for guitarists, which was usually the case. Maybe I should have learned to play guitar. I’d thought about setting up my own band, but it never really appealed. Maybe later when I had some experience.

The kettle let out a shrill squeal and I picked it up and poured water onto the Alta Rica granules in my mug. My sister Anna kept buying this fancy shit for me and I couldn’t tell the difference between that and regular Nescafe. I sipped the coffee and turned my attention back to the paper. The ad at the bottom of the second column caught my attention and I read through it carefully.

"Nottingham band seeks singer. Influences: Kiss, Faster Pussycat, Poison etc. Writing skills preferred but not essential. Call Lindsey."

A local telephone number followed. I considered whether to call as I took another sip of coffee. It was August 1991, the height of the modern glam age. I wasn’t keen on all that makeup shit and spandex, but it was the only opportunity I’d found in weeks. It seemed that the heavier bands, following in the footsteps of Metallica and Megadeth, or even Bon Jovi and Def Leppard, which were more my cup of tea, all had singers. I might have to take what I could get.

I finished the coffee and reached for the phone where it dangled at the end of its cable by the kitchen door. The stupid thing always fell off its hook and I could never be bothered to keep picking it up. I punched in the number and waited for an answer. I might not like this band’s music that much, but it could be a launching pad for me. I had to get myself in front of an audience somehow.

Hello? The deep voice startled me, and I pulled myself together.

Hi. Can I speak to Lindsey, please?

Lindsey’s busy. I’m Mark. Is it about the ad for a singer?

Yeah. Have you had many calls? I asked.

Only about thirty in the last hour. Mark let out a short laugh. What’s your name?

Alex.

Any experience?

Plenty, but it’s my first try out for a band. I lied smoothly. My experience was restricted to my bedroom and a single performance in a small pub. The manager had stopped me after two songs and said I was too loud. I had, however, written a bunch of songs which I thought were decent and I got the opportunity to tell him this.

Do you write?

Yes, I’ve been writing since I was eighteen. I’m twenty-two now.

Are you local?

City centre.

Cool. I live in Beeston. I’m still living with my parents, but they let us rehearse in the garage. I’m the drummer, so it beats moving the kit around.

I have my own place, I told him.

You work?

Uh, no.

He didn’t say anything to that, and I didn’t elaborate. For the most part I let people think I was on benefits, the same way I didn’t tell them exactly where I lived. It was easier than telling them I lived in The Park and didn’t need to work, because Mummy and Daddy had left my sister and me with more money than we could ever hope to spend. I could have easily afforded to live farther out, in the suburbs, but The Park suited me. I liked having everything I needed on my doorstep.

Can you give me a few bars of something? Mark asked.

Over the phone?

Yeah.

You might want to hold it away from your ear. I wasn’t a fan of Poison, but I did know some of their songs. I launched into Nothin’ But a Good Time from their 1988 album, Open Up and Say…Aah! I got to the end of the first chorus, before Mark bellowed in my ear:

You can stop now!

I chuckled, confident I’d impressed. I knew I had a powerful voice, and I could sing in tune. I’d spent the past four years practicing and recording myself so I could play it back and work on making it better.

So? I prompted.

Can you come to an audition?

Yeah! I exclaimed excitedly. I cleared my throat and spoke more calmly. Where and when?

Tonight, half past eight. We’re seeing four other guys, so you get the last slot. Have you got a pen?

I’ve got a good memory.

Mark reeled off an address in Beeston and I made a mental note of it. I’ll be there, I said.

Finally! It wasn’t in the bag yet, but I was sure I could impress the band. I just had to hope none of the other people auditioning could equal me.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening crawled by. I couldn’t be bothered to cook anything, and I made toasted sandwiches instead. Then I spent a couple of hours getting ready—fifteen minutes showering and shaving and an hour with a hair dryer. The rest of the time I spent sorting through my vast supply of clothes, unable to decide on a suitable outfit. I wanted them to think I’d fit in, but I didn’t want to go overboard and try to be something I wasn’t. I settled for black leather trousers, a plain black T-shirt and cowboy boots. It was too warm for a jacket.

I contemplated driving but decided against it. I didn’t want to roll up outside the guy’s house in my BMW until I got to know him better—if I got past the audition and had the opportunity. I let myself out of the building and stuck my arm out as a taxi approached. Another good thing about living so close to the centre—cabs passed by often enough that you rarely had to wait. I checked my watch as I slid into the backseat of the car. It was twenty past eight, but Beeston was only about four miles. I gave the driver the address and slouched back in the seat.

Two minutes before half past, I arrived outside the address I’d been given. The house itself was in darkness, but I could see a glow around the edge of the garage doors. I walked up the drive and knocked on the steel. The door rolled up slowly, making a screeching sound that told me it was on its way out. I waited until the man behind it came into view. He was about my height, with shoulder-length brown hair and blue eyes. Stubble dusted his jawline, and he was dressed in a Bon Jovi T-shirt, faded jeans, and running shoes. No makeup or spandex in sight. I relaxed and smiled. Maybe they wouldn’t be too glam after all.

Hey, I’m Alex Randall. I talked to Mark on the phone earlier?

I’m Mark Short. Thanks for coming. The man stuck his hand out to greet me. We shook and he stepped back, gesturing me to step inside.

I looked around, noting a rug covered most of the concrete floor and a drum kit was set up at the back of the garage. A couple of guitars leaned against the wall and several amps stood around, with a tangle of cables trailing across the floor. Two other guys sat on a pair of shabby dining chairs next to the drum kit. One rose and came towards me, a grin a mile wide on his face.

Ricky Wade. I play bass. Mark says we saved the best till last. Was he right?

I hope so! I was pleasantly surprised the drummer had apparently been singing my praises after only a few bars over the phone. I hoped it was a good omen.

The third member of the band remained seated, half turned away and ignoring us. Long blond hair hid his face, and I took in a similar outfit to those the others wore—jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt with Kiss tour dates on the back.

Linz, you gonna come and say hi? Mark said.

Linz? Lindsey? The guitarist’s a girl?

The blond turned a little more towards me but didn’t look up. Hi. The single syllable was uttered softly, with a surprisingly deep voice. I raised my eyebrows. Lindsey’s a bloke?

Hell, Lindsey, could you be a bit more friendly? Ricky said, giving the blond’s shoulder a push.

Fuck off, Ricky. Lindsey rose to his feet and lifted his guitar strap over his head. He tossed his hair back from his face and ran a hand through it. He stared at me in silence, hazel eyes drifting from my face, down over my body and back up. I stared back. His skin was smooth without as much as a hint of a five o’clock shadow. His eyes were framed by long lashes, and he had high cheekbones and a straight nose. He narrowed his eyes and caught his lower lip between his teeth.

Hi, Lindsey, I said.

You’re… Alex, right? Lindsey’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke, and I wondered why I noticed. Maybe because I felt unnerved by his silent appraisal.

Yeah.

Are you any good?

I hope so. I smiled, but he didn’t return it.

Dude, let’s get on with it, shall we? I can’t be late tonight. I promised Lauren. Ricky interrupted the conversation.

Mark snickered. You haven’t even got a ring on her finger yet and you’re under her thumb.

Go to hell, Shorty. Just because you can’t get a woman for love nor money.

I wouldn’t want one if she was gonna control me like Lauren does you, Mark said with a grimace.

Lindsey snorted. He raised a hand to tuck his hair behind his ear, and I noticed three rings through the lobe and a stud in the cartilage, just beneath the tip. I looked at Mark instead. He was the one who’d already heard me after all.

What do you want me to sing?

You didn’t ask him to prepare anything? Ricky asked, frowning. What’s wrong with you, man?

Lindsey was supposed to be arranging all this shit, Mark grumbled. I forgot, okay?

Ricky grumbled and shot an irritated look at Lindsey. We’ll have to wing it. What have you got, Alex?

"Well, I sang a few bars of Nothin’ But a Good Time on the phone earlier. I could do that. Or Your Mama Don’t Dance. Maybe they wouldn’t want Poison. Kiss, Crazy Crazy Nights?" I added.

Yeah, we’ll do that. It’s one of the covers we play sometimes, Ricky said.

How long have you been together? I asked, realising I knew nothing about the band; not even their name, assuming they had one.

A year. Mark answered. We’ve been playing some of the smaller clubs around town and some in Leicester, Mansfield, Grantham and around there.

And you don’t have a singer?

We had one, but things didn’t work out. He quit last month, Ricky explained. Lindsey’s been filling in.

I shifted my gaze back to Lindsey, who was frowning and not looking at me. I wasn’t sure whether to speak directly to him, or to Ricky. He sings as well as playing guitar?

Needs must. It was Lindsey who answered. I turned to him again, but anything I might have said in response was drowned out by a squeal from his guitar. It was clearly a cue to move things forward. Mark went to the drum kit and sat down.

Okay, let’s do this. Ricky picked up a bass guitar and slung the strap over his shoulder. You ready, Alex? Do you want a drink of water or something?

No, thanks. I’m good to go. I went to the microphone stand in the middle of the compact area and checked the mic was switched on. It was only then that nerves kicked in. My pulse quickened and sweat dampened my palms. I needed to nail this, or I’d be back to square one, reading the ads every week and finding nothing.

The band started up and I glanced around at the three guys. They sounded good together and they looked the part. Mark, behind the drums, was keeping good time. Ricky stood to Mark’s left as I faced them, with his bass hanging low across his thighs. His blond hair, a few shades darker than Lindsey’s, fell into his eyes, and he threw his head back to toss it away. Lindsey stood the other side of the drum kit, eyes unfocused as he played. His fingers flew over the strings effortlessly and seemingly without thought. He stood with his feet planted apart, knees slightly bent. I flicked my hair back and stared at the microphone in front of me instead. I needed to concentrate, or I’d fuck up and forget my lyrics, or worse, sing out of tune. Usually it came naturally, but I was distracted, and I couldn’t work out why. Maybe because it was so important to me. Maybe because the musicians were waiting for me to prove I was what they wanted, or otherwise.

I listened for my cue and launched into the first few bars of the song. I half-closed my eyes and lost myself in the music the way I usually did when I was singing alone in my flat. I forgot three pairs of eyes and ears were focused on me and I sang my heart out. When the last note died away, I opened my eyes and realised all three men were staring at me, Mark with his mouth hanging open.

What? I said. Was it pitchy?

Fuck, Mark responded.

I knew my face fell. It was the first time I’d sung in front of people who knew anything about music, and I wondered if I’d spent the last few years wasting my time. Was I terrible, but too wrapped up in myself to realise?

You’re fucking awesome, man! Ricky blurted.

Oh! Wow, thanks. I relaxed and grinned at him. I looked at Mark and he beamed back at me.

I think we found our singer. Linz?

I looked at Lindsey. His face didn’t betray anything, and he avoided my eyes, but he nodded and unplugged his guitar.

Ricky put his bass into a guitar bag and slid the strap over his shoulder. I gotta go. Lauren’s—

Gonna skin you if you’re late. We know. Mark teased him. See you tomorrow?

Yeah. Nice meeting you, Alex. See you soon, yeah?

Sure. I nodded. I couldn’t believe it was that simple. Was I part of the band now?

I have to go too. Lindsey put his guitar into a case and propped it against one of the chairs while he pulled on a leather jacket. See ya. Then he was gone, and I was left there with Mark, feeling a little bemused.

So, um, is that it? I asked.

Yeah. You got the job, if you want it. The other guys were okay, but you wiped the floor with them.

I just thought—I don’t know, it was all so quick.

We didn’t need any more to decide. Mark grinned at me. Do you want to come in the house for a beer?

Thanks. I waited while he switched things off, bolted the door from the inside and switched on an alarm. Then we walked through the small door at the back of the garage directly into his kitchen.

We’ll be rehearsing tomorrow afternoon if you can make it. Mark opened the fridge and removed two bottles of Becks.

Yeah, I can make it. What time?

Two?

Okay, I’ll be here. I took the bottle he had opened for me. How long have you known the others?

I went to school with Ricky. We met in detention when we were twelve. He lives in Saint Annes now, but his parents are still over this way.

I tried not to grimace. Saint Annes wasn’t the nicest area to set up house. I certainly wouldn’t want to visit him and leave my car outside.

I got drums for my fifteenth birthday and Ricky got a bass. We jammed together through school and decided to try setting up a band when we were eighteen. It didn’t quite work out how we planned, though. Other stuff got in the way. We only started taking it seriously last year. The previous singer, Dave, was a friend of someone Ricky knows. We had to advertise for a guitarist. Lindsey was the first one to answer the ad we ran.

Is his name really Lindsey? I asked.

Richard Lindstrum. He hates his name and with two Richards, it was awkward at the beginning. So, he decided to call himself Lindsey and Ricky—well, he kept to Ricky.

Okay. It made sense, but it still seemed weird to me that Lindsey would pick a name that made him sound like a girl.

Lindsey started playing when he was ten years old, Mark went on. His dad gave him an old acoustic guitar and he taught himself. He got a paper round and saved every penny until he could upgrade to electric. His parents didn’t have much money, so he didn’t get an allowance.

Where’s he live?

Aspley.

I shuddered. Aspley was worse than Saint Annes. I had to remind myself they were normal guys with normal lives, and it was me who was different. I could just have easily been living in Aspley myself, if it hadn’t been for Mum and Dad.

What about you? You were pretty vague when I asked earlier.

Oh, um, The Park, I muttered.

Mark grinned. Are you in one of those student places?

No, I’ve got a flat.

I thought you said you didn’t work. Did you win the Pools?

No, my, uh, my parents died and left me and my sister some money, I admitted.

Shit, I’m sorry, Alex. Mark’s grin disappeared.

It was a long time ago. I was fourteen. My sister’s ten years older. She took care of things until I finished school. She’s a nurse. Even though she doesn’t need to work either, she always wanted to care for people. I failed miserably at school, so I couldn’t have got anything decent if I wanted to. I was amazed at myself for telling him so much so soon, but he didn’t say anything about my apparent wealth.

I work in McDonalds. Mark made a face. It’s horrible hours and lousy money, but Mum and Dad won’t let me live here and leech off them. I failed at school too. Ricky’s the only one who’s got a good job. He got his exams and started working in a recruitment agency. He’s aiming to get promoted to trainee manager so he can move somewhere nicer with his girlfriend. Shame he can’t get me and Lindsey better work. Lindsey works in Selectadisc. Mostly just in the shop, but he DJs upstairs sometimes if their regular guy is sick or on holiday.

I thought about the countless times I’d been in the record shop, and couldn’t ever remember seeing Lindsey, but I didn’t often take any notice of the staff when I was buying things. He’s not very talkative, is he? I ventured.

Linz? He’s just shy. He’ll open up when you get to know him.

I nodded and lifted the bottle of Becks to my lips. I drank half of it in a few strong gulps. It reminded me I needed to stock up. My fridge was empty except for the milk and cheese and other essentials Anna had dropped in for me. She never brought me beer.

You never said if the band has a name, I reminded Mark.

Oh, yeah. We call ourselves the River Rats. None of us could think of anything better when we started out and it kind of stuck. We might change it if we start getting somewhere.

I stayed another half hour. Mark talked a lot and I learned plenty. He told me about himself, and Ricky and Lauren, but barely said anything else about Lindsey. I found out the band had a gig booked in three weeks’ time at a club in Mansfield. They were planning to perform four covers and four of their own songs. Mark gave me the set list to study and the lyrics for the cover songs. I borrowed his phone to call a taxi and travelled home in a state of excitement. Finally, I was in a band, and I couldn’t wait to start working with them.

By the time I walked into my apartment, I realised I was starving. The sandwiches I’d eaten earlier hadn’t filled me up, although they’d been all I felt like having at the time. I grabbed a ready¬ meal from the freezer, tossed it into the oven and set the timer for forty-five minutes. Then I made myself coffee and threw myself onto the long leather couch in my lounge to study the set list for the gig.

There was a Kiss song I knew well, and a Poison song I’d heard, but didn’t know the lyrics to. I decided to practise them while I waited for the food. I knew the tune and went over and over the first verse and the chorus until I had them stuck in my head. I wanted to be well-prepared for the rehearsal the next day, rather than waste the others’ time while I learned popular songs.

I took a break to eat the bland chicken curry I’d heated up, and then started again. By the time I eventually went to bed, I had every word to the Poison song embedded in my brain, as well as the Faster Pussycat song on the list. They were one of my least favourite bands and I didn’t know how the song sounded, but at least I knew the lyrics now.

Despite my exhaustion when I closed my eyes, I found it difficult to sleep. I was filled with anticipation and unable to relax. I went over my audition in my head, and my introduction to the other three-quarters of the River Rats.

I’d hit it off with Mark right away. He was easy to talk to and pretty laid back. Ricky had seemed like he would be good fun and I knew I could like him too. Lindsey, I wasn’t so sure about. Mark had said he was shy and maybe that was all it was, but there was something I couldn’t put my finger on. Perhaps it was the way he’d looked me up and down like you might look at something in the market which you were considering buying. Or maybe it was just my imagination. I supposed I would find out eventually.

I rolled over and buried my face in the pillow. At last, I was part of a band and for now that was all that mattered to me.

CHAPTER TWO

Alex! Alex!

I groaned as my bedroom door flew open to reveal my sister. Jesus, Anna! Why do you keep doing that? I grumbled.

"Doing what? You’re still in bed. It’s past noon. I brought you