To Color Your Life

The blinding lights of the stethoscope flashed so quickly that they could easily make one feel dizzy. But Justin was already used to it and hardly noticed them.

He maneuvered between people twitching to the beat of the music, trying to get to the bar. What he disliked about this club was the crowd. The popular place was always teeming with reckless rabble (by the way, very wealthy) and resembled a pool with piranhas, where everyone could gobble up the other at any time.

"Hi, handsome!" An unfamiliar blonde with clearly silicone boobs hugged Evans' chest like he was the first person she saw after spending twenty years on an uninhabited island. "Have we met before?"

Her palms slid up the guy's shirt and locked on his neck. "Oh! That's right! You're that hot player from the basketball team poster, aren't you?!" She leaned closer and rubbed her crotch area against the man's groin, and whispered in his ear, "I don't mind if you show me a couple of cool tricks."

She had already prepared to lick her lips seductively, anticipating a hot night, but looking into the guy's cold eyes, she was horrified. Rage and disgust were written on his face.

"Get your hands off. Now!" These were not just words, they sounded like a warning.

The girl jumped back as if she had been electrocuted and hurried to hide in the crowd.

Justin shrugged his shoulder, throwing off the sensation of someone else's hands on his body, and hurried off the dance floor.

"The fish didn't want to get hooked again?" The bartender chuckled and put an open bottle of beer in front of Evans as soon as he sat down on a chair.

"Are you kidding me?" Justin nodded, welcoming a good acquaintance who knew all his drink preferences. "This blonde was the third person to hang on to me while I was trying to get to you."

"Haha, that's the drawbacks of being so famous," the bartender smiled, deftly mixed another cocktail, and gave it to another guest.

"To hell with this fame. I have already cursed a thousand times that day when I agreed to this photo session." Justin shook his head, mentally calling himself the last idiot. If it hadn't been for Denver Jr.'s idea of ​​using Evans' face for the top varsity basketball poster, the latter's life would have been much more quiet.

The photos were so successful, and the article in their university newspaper so popular, that Aaron and Caleb put out three additional prints, selling Evans' photos at sky-high prices.

Assholes.

Justin had to quit basketball because he was tired of the constant screeching of new fans following their team to every game. The coach was against Evans leaving the team since he was quite a good and promising player. Evans, on the other hand, didn't care.

He even dyed his black hair white, but this only intensified the harassment of anxious girls.

Aaron and Caleb were laughing like it was the best prank they'd ever had. However, Justin knew that nothing else should be expected from his friends.

Complete assholes. And he's the same.

"You know, if something comes to Aaron's mind, he can't be stopped. It's easier to survive a nuclear war than to cross his path."

Justin agreed with that. He took a few sips of beer and glanced at the stage from the side. "Is that why you're here, Gregor?"

The bartender also glanced towards the stage, where there was a drum kit, synthesizer, two guitars and several microphone stands.

He said nothing, but Justin didn't need his answer. Gregor Barkens was the lead singer in Aaron's band. And the bartender at the club, currently run by Denver's older brother, Christian.

Aaron once had the idea to create a musical group. As the heir to the media empire, he had no problems with resources and connections, as well as money for promotion. But that would be too simple and uninteresting.

So he managed to drag in two of his friends, Caleb and Elon. Caleb played the synthesizer well, and Elon was in charge of the guitar. Justin was lucky. He sang so awful that the role of the soloist passed him.

Aaron was upset at first, as he already represented their great four on stage, but his disappointment did not last long. The bartender who worked at his father's club turned out to be a great singer. So great that Denver was amazed at his luck. Just a random singing in one of the service rooms decided the fate of the bartender at that very moment.

Gregor Barkens did not strive for fame. At least, not in the way and not in the company in which he now finds himself. But refusing to Aaron Denver could have caused more problems than having to endure the temper of a spoiled heir.

To some extent, Justin even liked Barkens. He was a simple guy from an ordinary family with a bunch of sisters, nieces and nephews. He didn't deliberately try to get close to his friends or the rich guests of the club, like most others.

Evans found it easy with him. He could sit all night next to the bar, chatting about everything or just be silent, and he would not get bored.

Perhaps they could become good friends. Maybe even best friends. But Justin never crossed that line.

He knew all too well how those around him treated those people like Gregor. The people without connections and famous names behind their backs. This guy has had enough of his problems. Evans didn't want to create new ones for him.

"Aaron said you were in the studio."

Gregor nodded. "His father decided it was time for the band to go out into the big light. The first disc is being prepared for the official release."

"Oh! Soon you will understand what being famous is."

"Are you kidding me?" Gregor shook his head, echoing Evans' words. "As soon as the first track hits the charts, I'll be done with the project." He was distracted for a couple of minutes to mix another cocktail for the client and then returned to the conversation.

"My look is not suitable for the stage. I'm too scary."

"Cough-cough, who the hell told you that?!" Justin choked on his beer and stared at the bartender, thinking he was joking. But Barkens looked serious.

Evans had eyes. It's true that Gregor was not handsome. To some extent, his appearance was even repulsive. But does it really matter when a person has such an amazing voice?

"You know, they say the first Beatles drummer was kicked out of the band because he was prettier than Paul and John and was drawing the attention of the female fans." Barkens continued. "In my case, the situation is the opposite."

"I don't know about the Beatles drummer, but you are the voice of the band and the songs that these turkeys are singing are also written by you. Cool songs, by the way." Evans saluted him with an empty beer bottle. He didn't understand music, but he was able to separate candy from some garbage.

Gregor laughed, accepting the compliment on his creativity, and put a new bottle on the table. "How highly you think of your friends, Justin."

Justin shrugged. "I know they are assholes. And the guys know that. But they, at least, do not pretend to be angels. Any of them can stab a knife in the back at any time. And each of us understands this perfectly. When there are no illusions and overestimated expectations from a person, then you will not have to be disappointed."

The music in the hall died down, and the sharp sound of the microphone turned on caught their attention.

"Talk of the devil." Evans grinned, took a sip of the cold beer, and stared at the stage where a familiar figure appeared.

Aaron Denver, god damn him.

The guests of the club whistled, the girls screamed with delight as soon as Aaron sat down at the drum set.

"Well, pitiful peasants, are you ready for something really cool?" Denver shouted.

The dance floor exploded with new screams welcoming their star.

Justin rolled his eyes. And this is the elite youth of their city? Only Aaron was allowed such liberty. He was the unspoken king of this closed club and did an excellent job of this role.

An experienced tempter, one look at whom deprived of will and reason.

A confident demon, in an instant, taking possession of the crowd.

A talented devil, whose hands were kissed by God himself.

As soon as Aaron Denver picked up the drumsticks, everyone in the club plunged into a trance close to ecstasy.

His phenomenal playing was a drug, addiction more terrible than heroin.

The light in the hall went out for a moment and flashed again simultaneously with the first strike on the instrument.

Justin wanted to close his eyes, cut himself off from the general madness that would be happening in the club for the next fifteen minutes. But could not.

The frantic rhythm of alternating beats awakened something inner, bestial. When the desires of the body quench the mind. When the gaze finds its target and can no longer let it go.

For two minutes he was sitting still and did not take his eyes off the dance floor. Then he got up and walked slowly towards the spellbound crowd.

The girl had her back to him. The rhythmic movements of her hips, narrow waist, arms thrown up kindled a fire in his chest. And this heat rushed down, wanting to find a way out.

Grab, take, own.

He did not notice anyone or anything around. Just an accelerating drum beat.

And long lavender hair, to which his hand was already reaching.

She was just a step away from him.