Power Trio

Rahul sends the recordings a week later and they host a listening party at the Shed, filling the space with friends, coworkers, and Sion’s bushel of bohemians. Evan’s first impulse is to feel odd that he doesn’t have his own circle to invite. But this is his circle now, he realizes, as Sion’s kobold boyfriend Lou oooohs and flashes a bright aqua at his chorded bridge on Fossil Fuel.

True to Kell’s plan, they get the recordings online, splashed across their socials (which now have followers in the low hundreds). Kell blasts their music out to just about every booker east of Champlain, and accepts just about every spot that comes their way. They’ve got at least one gig every week of July, more often two or three, almost always opening for bigger acts or as part of a lengthy lineup. They play in basements for tiny handfuls of hardcore fans; they play at rowdy house parties. They even play at a friend of a friend’s birthday party, and that’s honestly one of their best-paying gigs.

Thekla and Kell do all the talking, thank God. The goblin is the gregarious front woman, all sizeable groups and twinkling laughs, while the orc is best at one-on-ones, talking shop and swapping contact information. Sion doesn’t put in much work, but a third of the audience are people he’s sleeping with and that counts for something.

Nobody gives Evan a hard time for his relative introversion. He’ll contribute the odd comment, and it’s always fun when a fellow bassist comes up to enthuse about his instrument or talk technique, but mostly he’s content to be there, watching his girlfriends work their magic.

Something’s going right, because Evan starts seeing the same faces follow them through New Laytham. That hyperactive pigtail girl from Ringside has possibly become Legendary’s first stan; he sees her at half their shows, screaming out FOSSIL! FUEL! with them. They’re still hyperlocal; they don’t even have merch. But they’re becoming a draw.

If this were the rest of Evan’s life, he’d die happy. But Kell has a dream, and Thekla has ambition, and Sion seems to think he’s a wizard now. The future is glowing on the horizon. Evan hopes that isn’t because it’s on fire.

He can’t put it off much longer. He wonders if he’s being a bad person for not telling them. When Kell purrs words of love in his ear, when Thekla teases him into playing rough, there’s a voice asking him: would this be happening if they knew? Would they be ashamed? Should you be ashamed?

He does everything he can to keep the clouds in his sky from shading Kell and Thekla, who are getting more and more excited with every bucket list venue they check off. Juli and Julio’s. The Social. Pins & Needles.

That last one is a blast. They perform on a checkerboard stage overlooking a bowling alley, with chintzy disco lights in their eyes and ridiculous CGI strike screens flashing above them. Evan, Kell, and Thekla decide to go as mall goth as they can for their outfits on this one, all safety pins and fishnets. Sion just wears what Sion always wears, but at least he’s properly monochrome.

“We are Legendary and we fucking love you,” Thekla cries, as Trapped like Rats ends and the whole place gets on their feet for an ovation (except for a really intense bugbear who’s been bowling strikes the entire show, glaring like they’re the biggest nuisance of her life).

They burst out into the night air, feeling giddy and immortal, and Kell pulls Evan to one side of the entrance and kisses him right there on the street. A departing patron gives him an enthusiastic slap on the back. “Polish them tusks, bro!”

“Ewwww,” Thekla says. “Get a room.”

Kell nudges her with a leather-bound toe. “What about yours, baby? We always do me. Isn’t Dalma at that stargazing thing?”

Thekla scratches her nose. “My bed’s not the biggest…”

“I vote Thekla’s,” Sion says, exiting Pins & Needles with Povini (if Evan remembers her name right) on his arm. “I think you will fall off and it will be funny.”

“Fuck outta here, Sion,” Kell says.

“My voice in the band silenced once more.” Sion sighs. “Do you see how they treat me, Povini?”

“Unjust.” Povini shakes her head.

“Ah, well,” Sion says. “So much for democracy. Good evening, all. We’re off for drinks with Beaula the bass lady. I’ll give her your regards. Don’t forget Tuesday, yes?”

“We’ll be there,” Evan calls to the departing elves. Thekla grimaces. Tuesday is the first mandated day of Sion’s musical magic experiment.

“Okay,” she says. “We’ll go to my place. But if there’s not enough room, Kell’s on the couch.”

“Never.” Kell musses Thekla’s hair out of shape again. “You’ll have to sleep on top of us like a spoiled little dog.”

* * *

“I told you we’d fit.” Kell tugs Thekla onto her slate-colored silk bedspread. Evan is smushed between an exposed brick wall and an exposed purple ass.

“You’re flattening Evan!” Thekla struggles. “And your feet are hanging off!”

“You okay back there, Ev?” Kell asks.

Evan is shimmying out of his stripy-sleeved emo getup. “Never better.”

Kell swivels her hips against him. “You feel pretty okay. He feels pretty okay to me, Thek. Wanna feel?” She whips round like a death-rolling crocodile, pinning the goblin between them.

“My shoes! My shoes!” Thekla desperately kicks them off as Kell licks her face. Thekla’s room is lit by artificial candles and a bubblegum pink lava lamp, which one of her black fuck-me pumps flies perilously close to. Someone’s phone is buzzing, he thinks Kell’s.

Evan catches one of Thekla’s flailing feet before it bonks him in the stomach and kisses her knee. Her fishnets create a fascinating pattern of raised diamonds in the meat of her thigh. The mesh is just large enough to slip his fingers through.

Thekla’s struggle slows as his hand travels up her leg, and Kell’s lips track a trail of cheap black makeup along her ear.

“I know the whole theme was a joke.” Evan lifts at the spandex and watches it strain against Thekla’s curves. “But I think our girlfriend should wear these more often.”

“I think our girlfriend took the joke a little too far.” Kell licks the side of Thekla’s face. The goblin whines and squirms, but the bed’s so small there’s nowhere to go. “I think maybe she was trying to distract her rhythm section during the show, which if you ask me—”

The phone buzzes again, insistently. Kell scoffs in annoyance. “Let me shut that shit up real quick.” She swings her legs out to the side of the bed and pulls her phone out of the pants she deposited on Thekla’s floor. “Oh, shit,” she says, leaping to her feet. “One second, team. Be right back.” She slips out of Thekla’s room and closes the door.

“What’s that about, do you think?” Evan asks.

“Dunno.” Thekla sits up, picks at a place on her costume’s thigh. “You’re shitting me. These cheapass fishnets got a tear in them already?”

A kind of realization dawns on both of them at the same time.

Thekla clears her throat. “Hey Evan…”

* * *

“Holy shit! You guys!” Kell slams Thekla’s door back open. “Get your cock out of that goblin, Evan! Band announcement!”

“Not yet,” Thekla hisses, the tattered remains of her tights fluttering in Evan’s fist as her bouncing intensifies.

“Fine, fine.” Kell paces restlessly. Thekla’s in her own world, but if the orc isn’t even bothering to watch the show, this has to be something crazy, and Evan is perturbed.

“Thek, hold on,” he gasps, grabbing her hips and stilling her doggy-style efforts. “Cut.” Thekla groans loudly and slumps forward, allowing Evan to extract himself. “This seems important,” he says.

Thekla’s eyes narrow. “It better be.”

Kell is nearly vibrating, she’s so keyed up. “It fucking well is. That was Warcry. They’re putting Shrike up for the East Coast leg of their tour in August. And guess who’s invited to be their opener? For ten dates in ten fuckin’ states?”

“Holy shit!” Thekla bolts upright. “Baby. Holy shit.”

“Well, nine states and DC. But still! It was this lady from Warcry. Shrike’s manager. She said their guy came to our show, and heard our EP, and Conna vouched for us. And she said yes.” Kell does an exaggerated club-banger dance. “Legendary is going on fucking tour, motherfucker!”

Thekla leaps from the bed into Kell’s arms, and the orc twirls her with delirious joy. She finishes the spin looking at Evan, and the corners of her smile shrink.

“We’ve been playing out for less than a month, and we’re already going on tour,” she says, reading his expression. “It’s not our tour, but Shrike’s seriously buzzy. This is great. Right?”

“It’s really, really great.” Evan hates that he’s putting this look on Kell’s face. You waited too long. You’re in too deep. You’re about to fuck it all up. “But there’s something that I think I need to tell you both right now, before the band gets any bigger.”

He glances at himself. “And I probably shouldn’t have my dick out for it.”