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rage_rekkerFor Casual Affection 11. calling them nicknames
Rekker was sitting up front relaxing and restringing one of his guitars when he heard the commotion from the back of the bus. They were stopped outside of the venue for the evening and many of the musicians were inside or had wandered off to get some food. Rekker would do that after he was done here and… delt with all this screaming. What in the hell was going on in the back of the bus?
Setting his guitar on the table he made is way toward the back and soon found that Aarne or Joe or Bjorn had discovered that the back window opened and there were a mess of fans gathered. Aarne was signing a drumstick and tossed it into the crowd. Well, this explained the noise, especially when Joe passed a bottle of booze out the back window to someone. Tom would have a fit, but Rekker just laughed, especially when Dee came up beside him giggling too.
“Your boy is crazy.” Dee mentioned and Rekker looked up to see Bjorn teetering drunkenly as he climbed into the open part of the window.
“Fuck.” Rekker gasped the word and barely made it to the back to grab Bjorn by his belt and stop him from tumbling out onto the concrete. Aarne and Joe beside him giggling and screaming. He was going to have a headache at this rate. Dee came up beside him and waved. That got more people cheering and Rekker realized there were fifty or more people collected out there.
“Gingerlocks!” Bjorn screamed the word at him when he realized who had ahold of his waist.
The loudness rang in Rekker’s ears, and he shook his head. The people out there were cheering, and Rekker fished into his pocket to pull out the few picks he had been using to tune his guitars before coming back. Those he tossed into the crowd while Bjorn clung to him, nursing a booze bottle. Dee leaned against Rekker’s shoulder on the other side giggling as a few in the crowd started chanting “Demon King.” He’d picked up that name at the beginning of his career and thought it had been forgotten.
The way Dee was giggling, the guitarist knew exactly how these people remembered the lost name. Joe was on the other side of Dee, yanking on Aarne’s hair and kissing him. Rekker paused for a moment and then laughing turned and pulled Bjorn into a kiss. Let the people take a picture of them kissing. Maybe it would shut some of the bastards up. He got into the overhead bin and pulled out the case Hexed, or well Missy and Rekker, used to store picks and tossed a few more of his to the crowd.
Missy soon joined them, and Rekker gave her a hug, something they had always done, even after breaking up. “Miss Mayhem! And the beautiful little Devil of Hexed.”
And Missy was soon tossing picks while kneeling on the back bench, Dee sitting in the sill beside her with her booted feet kicking out against the back of the bus. One thing Hexed was always known for, aside from Rekker’s volatility and their aggressive music, was a love of their fans. They spent a lot of time with them when they could, and that held true even now when they were semi-retired.
Rekker glanced at Bjorn and then turned back to the crowd that was slowly getting bigger. His arm was still around Bjorn’s waist, mostly to make sure he could catch him if he tried to pitch off on to the ground again. “And this loudmouth blonde, my fiancé, The Stormbringer of Blixt.”
Some of the people up front paused, and Rekker knew why. It was one thing to be dating but surely, they were milling over the word he had used. The Brit didn’t pause and kept going. “Over on the far side… Joe BURN THEM ALL! From the Hell’s Angels.”
This was another thing Hexed was known for when they traveled with less known bands, they always promoted them and aimed to use their clout to get them recognition. This was the reason for introducing everyone, in part. Rekker was watching the two Trash Twins clinging on to each other. There was no doubt those two were obsessively in love with each other.
“Devon!! Get your sleepy ass over here!” Rekker yelled and turned to pull back the curtain of one of the bunks. Devon got up reluctantly in just shorts and came sleepily to where Rekker was leading him.
“What the hell is this?” Devon asked while pushing his hair out of his face.
Rekker turned to the crowd and yelled. “Should we get the Tornado to sign a few sticks?” Then the Brit turned and pointed at Aarne. “We should get the Finnish Terror and the L.A. Tornado to face off tonight! A drum battle on stage!”
Dee started laughing as the crowd roared and Devon grouched under his breath. Aarne reached over and hugged the other drummer thinking this would be a hell of an idea if they could get out there and drum battle. Rekker raised horns and got another set of screams from the crowd. Devon went along with it and was soon smiling as they all signed some things passed up into the back window. He might be a homebody, but this was certainly part of what Rekker loved about the road. This kind of energy was what he lived for and the friendship of the band… or bands now on this madness of a tour.
Rekker was sitting up front relaxing and restringing one of his guitars when he heard the commotion from the back of the bus. They were stopped outside of the venue for the evening and many of the musicians were inside or had wandered off to get some food. Rekker would do that after he was done here and… delt with all this screaming. What in the hell was going on in the back of the bus?
Setting his guitar on the table he made is way toward the back and soon found that Aarne or Joe or Bjorn had discovered that the back window opened and there were a mess of fans gathered. Aarne was signing a drumstick and tossed it into the crowd. Well, this explained the noise, especially when Joe passed a bottle of booze out the back window to someone. Tom would have a fit, but Rekker just laughed, especially when Dee came up beside him giggling too.
“Your boy is crazy.” Dee mentioned and Rekker looked up to see Bjorn teetering drunkenly as he climbed into the open part of the window.
“Fuck.” Rekker gasped the word and barely made it to the back to grab Bjorn by his belt and stop him from tumbling out onto the concrete. Aarne and Joe beside him giggling and screaming. He was going to have a headache at this rate. Dee came up beside him and waved. That got more people cheering and Rekker realized there were fifty or more people collected out there.
“Gingerlocks!” Bjorn screamed the word at him when he realized who had ahold of his waist.
The loudness rang in Rekker’s ears, and he shook his head. The people out there were cheering, and Rekker fished into his pocket to pull out the few picks he had been using to tune his guitars before coming back. Those he tossed into the crowd while Bjorn clung to him, nursing a booze bottle. Dee leaned against Rekker’s shoulder on the other side giggling as a few in the crowd started chanting “Demon King.” He’d picked up that name at the beginning of his career and thought it had been forgotten.
The way Dee was giggling, the guitarist knew exactly how these people remembered the lost name. Joe was on the other side of Dee, yanking on Aarne’s hair and kissing him. Rekker paused for a moment and then laughing turned and pulled Bjorn into a kiss. Let the people take a picture of them kissing. Maybe it would shut some of the bastards up. He got into the overhead bin and pulled out the case Hexed, or well Missy and Rekker, used to store picks and tossed a few more of his to the crowd.
Missy soon joined them, and Rekker gave her a hug, something they had always done, even after breaking up. “Miss Mayhem! And the beautiful little Devil of Hexed.”
And Missy was soon tossing picks while kneeling on the back bench, Dee sitting in the sill beside her with her booted feet kicking out against the back of the bus. One thing Hexed was always known for, aside from Rekker’s volatility and their aggressive music, was a love of their fans. They spent a lot of time with them when they could, and that held true even now when they were semi-retired.
Rekker glanced at Bjorn and then turned back to the crowd that was slowly getting bigger. His arm was still around Bjorn’s waist, mostly to make sure he could catch him if he tried to pitch off on to the ground again. “And this loudmouth blonde, my fiancé, The Stormbringer of Blixt.”
Some of the people up front paused, and Rekker knew why. It was one thing to be dating but surely, they were milling over the word he had used. The Brit didn’t pause and kept going. “Over on the far side… Joe BURN THEM ALL! From the Hell’s Angels.”
This was another thing Hexed was known for when they traveled with less known bands, they always promoted them and aimed to use their clout to get them recognition. This was the reason for introducing everyone, in part. Rekker was watching the two Trash Twins clinging on to each other. There was no doubt those two were obsessively in love with each other.
“Devon!! Get your sleepy ass over here!” Rekker yelled and turned to pull back the curtain of one of the bunks. Devon got up reluctantly in just shorts and came sleepily to where Rekker was leading him.
“What the hell is this?” Devon asked while pushing his hair out of his face.
Rekker turned to the crowd and yelled. “Should we get the Tornado to sign a few sticks?” Then the Brit turned and pointed at Aarne. “We should get the Finnish Terror and the L.A. Tornado to face off tonight! A drum battle on stage!”
Dee started laughing as the crowd roared and Devon grouched under his breath. Aarne reached over and hugged the other drummer thinking this would be a hell of an idea if they could get out there and drum battle. Rekker raised horns and got another set of screams from the crowd. Devon went along with it and was soon smiling as they all signed some things passed up into the back window. He might be a homebody, but this was certainly part of what Rekker loved about the road. This kind of energy was what he lived for and the friendship of the band… or bands now on this madness of a tour.
