Flirting With Sin
“Aristotle Sincero’s father had pounded this saying into his head as a child. Back then, he’d accepted the advice as gospel…as he’d once believed and hung on everything Joseph Sincero had ever uttered. But now, as a twenty-seven-going-on-old-as-fuck rock musician, Ari assumed the person who’d come up with that golden nugget had either been disgustingly optimistic or drunk. Or high. Maybe both.
Ari passed his guitar to a roadie as he charged into the backstage area, sweat and energy from the last of three encores pouring off of him. The frantic cheers and chants of the New York City audience followed him, spiking the adrenaline streaming through his veins like roaring rapids after a flash flood. Hands slapped his back, fists bumped his shoulders, but he didn’t slow, didn’t stop. God, he loved performing. The fans, the music—those never grew old. But once he stepped off the stage, he had to keep going. Had to reach the relative quiet of the dressing room before the rush in his blood ...started to loosen its grip, to ease and fade like a black shirt after too many washes.MoreLess
Ari passed his guitar to a roadie as he charged into the backstage area, sweat and energy from the last of three encores pouring off of him. The frantic cheers and chants of the New York City audience followed him, spiking the adrenaline streaming through his veins like roaring rapids after a flash flood. Hands slapped his back, fists bumped his shoulders, but he didn’t slow, didn’t stop. God, he loved performing. The fans, the music—those never grew old. But once he stepped off the stage, he had to keep going. Had to reach the relative quiet of the dressing room before the rush in his blood ...started to loosen its grip, to ease and fade like a black shirt after too many washes.MoreLess
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