Venom

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Colton gets home a few minutes past midnight. He pushes through the door with a box of doughnuts and a six-pack of beer in tow. When he sets them on the counter, he shrugs off his jacket and swipes up a beer.

"How was work?" I call from the living room.

"Alright. Got a lot done, but that band of yours is a pain in the ass to work with."

My ears perk at the small opening for conversation regarding Venom. I scoot off the couch, pulling my thick blanket with me. Colton unwraps the foil-covered plate on the kitchen table and studies it with a wariness that borderlines offensive. A small bowl of lumpy mashed potatoes sits beside my attempt at meatloaf.

Colton hums under his breath, picking up the fork and stabbing the meatloaf a few times in the middle.

"What the hell is this?" he asks after a moment of deliberation.

I roll my eyes and take up a seat across from him. "Meatloaf."

"You're joking."

I purse my lips and Colton snorts, shaking his head and examining the specimen once again. He cuts away a piece on the end, stabbing it onto his fork to inspect it under the light.

"I mean...it looks like a dried-out turd," he mutters. "Mom's never looked like this."

"What, her turds?" I question sarcastically. Colton grimaces, and I scoff. "Just eat it!"

There's always such a stigma associated with gay men being feminine and whiny. Now granted, I've met a few gay men who definitely fit into this category, but none of them hold a candle to my brother. Despite being straight, he is the fussiest dude I know. He'll never admit that, of course. But he is.

He shudders while placing the bite of meatloaf into his mouth. He closes his eyes while he chews, his face contorting with disgust until his adam's apple bobs up and down to indicate he's swallowed. His shoulders relax, and his eyes pop open in surprise.

"Huh. Gotta hand it to you, bud. Not too bad."

I sniff. "You're welcome. So, tell me about work."

Colton leans back in his chair, taking a long swig of beer and belching. "Well. Why would I tell you when I could show you?"

I frown in confusion. "What?"

My brother pulls out his phone, jabbing a few buttons with his meaty thumb before shoving it to my face. I glance at the screen. At first, I don't see anything, just a dark screen and the sound of shuffling feet. But as the seconds tick by, a familiar voice bleeds into the background.

"...be fine. That's enough."

The camera changes angles, and the owner to that sensual voice comes into view as well. My jaw loses all tension as my eyes lock on Vaughn. He's far in the distance, his figure pacing back and forth across the large stage, but it's him.

He's not performing, he's not in a commercial, and he's not in a music video. It's just Vaughn Rutter in pure, natural form. My cheeks burn with desire and my mouth goes dry. Another figure emerges from the side of the stage. I squint, and when he takes a few steps closer, I realize it's the lead guitarist, Nolan.

"If we put another row of lights up there, it'll look wicked for our intro," he says, swinging his guitar around his shoulder so it looks like an upside-down backpack.

The camera zooms in on Vaughn's face, and my heart hammers in my chest. Vaughn follows Nolan's hand and studies the ceiling with thoughtful contemplation. Even from the fuzzy detail of the video, his poignant beauty leaves me breathless. His dark gaze sweeps across the area before he shakes his head. A single strand of dark hair falls across his forehead.