*****

Riley sighed and shifted his weight to the other foot as the woman behind the counter tried to figure out how to work the cappuccino machine. He didn't need anything as fancy as cappuccino. All he wanted was a simple cup of hot chocolate, no whipped cream. Straight-up, as his pop liked to say. The woman seemed to be consulting a manual now. He could see two other employees lurking in the back room, and there was one out on the sidewalk trying to entice people inside with coupons offering ten percent discounts on frothy beverages. The only person who seemed to be working on providing the promised beverages, however, was the new girl who didn't know how to operate the machine. Riley suppressed another sigh.

"Oh yeah," the person behind him joked sarcastically, voice rising as he quoted, "'This place looks like it will be quick.'"

"I know, shut up," another voice answered. "I'll tell them it was my fault, okay?"

"Whatever," the first voice said. After a pause, he added more seriously, "Maybe we should skip it. We're gonna be late as it is."

"Well if we're already gonna be late, another couple minutes won't kill anyone, right?"

Sounding genuinely annoyed now, the first guy said, "It's not cool to be late for soundcheck."

At the mention of that word, Riley nearly turned around. Of course there were plenty of clubs in Des Moines, and the chance that it was the same soundcheck he was interested in was small - but still, a chance was a chance. So he rubbed the back of his neck as he turned his head, pretending that he was stretching. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the speakers behind him. It was only a glimpse, but it was enough to make his heart stutter.

He was witnessing a legendary fight between Chris Cole and Rob Malcolm.

Well, not a fight. They still argued, Riley had heard, but they didn't have the knock-down-drag-out brawls they used to get into when they had their first band together. No, this wasn't the kind of fight that got Chris kicked out of Blood Pollution - only to end up singing for a couple of years with the greatest heavy metal band in the world, then and ever: Steel Dragon.

Now Chris had his own band again. With Rob. And they were just-short-of arguing, at this very moment, right behind Riley.

Riley waited a beat. Then he turned to face the lead singer and the lead guitarist of The Chris Cole Band, and said as casually as he could manage, "Hey, if you guys are in a hurry, you can cut in front of me."

"Are you sure?" Chris asked, and Riley recognized his voice as the second speaker's. Rob was already nodding his thanks and moving to take the place Riley was indicating for them.

"Yeah," Riley said. "I'm not in a hurry."

Chris smiled, and Riley got so lost in it that he nearly missed Chris's "thanks." He stepped back to make room for Chris, and stood there biting his lip for a moment to control his mouth. This was almost too good to be true, but he was definitely standing in a Des Moines coffeehouse with Chris Cole. Well, not *with* him - but next to him, at least. He'd probably never have another chance like this. So he let his lip unfurl from between his teeth and moved in a step.

"I'm sorry," he said as they turned to him, "I don't want to bother you, but you're Chris Cole, aren't you?" Riley hardly waited for Chris to nod before he went on, "I'm a really big fan. I just wanted to tell you I love your stuff. 'Paper Candle' kicks ass."

"Right on, thanks," Chris said, and Riley couldn't help returning the grin. "You coming to the show tonight?"

"Oh yeah," Riley nodded enthusiastically. "I wouldn't miss it!"

"Alright, man, I'll see you there," Chris said before turning to place his order. **Regular coffee, black,** Riley echoed internally. **Don't leave any room for cream at the top. He likes it strong and sweet.** Riley watched Chris take his cup over to the other counter and pick up three white packets. Real sugar. Leaning on the counter to place his own order, Riley glanced over as Chris tore open the first packet of sugar with his teeth.

"Sir?" the counter girl repeated. "What can I get you?"

Riley turned his attention to her and hesitated. "Coffee," he said. "Regular. To go." He was fishing for the change in his pocket when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Just wanted to thank you again," Chris Cole said to him.

Before Riley could think of a good response, he heard himself say, "As long as you keep making the music you make, I'm happy to do anything for you." Immediately, he groaned inwardly. **Oh please, tell me I did not say that out loud!** But he knew he had.

Chris just said, "Oh, well - thanks," and smiled once more.

"Chris!" Rob called, standing outside the door he was holding open, coffee cup tilted at a dangerous angle as he tapped his blue fingernails against the face of his watch.

"Okay, I'm coming!" Chris responded with equal impatience.

Riley watched them go before turning to wait for the coffee he really didn't want, shoulders sagging slightly. Maybe if he added a lot of sugar.... He couldn't believe he had blown it, his one chance to talk to Chris Cole, by saying something as stupid as that.

He was watching the counter girl trying to separate a paper cup from the rest of the stack when, to his surprise, he heard Chris Cole's voice again: "Hey, what's your name?"

Riley turned at once. "Uh," he said, chagrined to feel himself blushing as he struggled to remember. "It's Riley."

"Riley?" Chris repeated. "Okay, Riley, I'll put you on the list for tonight." He smiled again and let Rob pull him away by the arm.

As they exited the coffee shop, Chris turned to take another look at the young man leaning on the counter. Catching the glance, Rob shook his head. "I don't think he'll make the seven year rule for a couple of years yet."

Chris did a quick calculation in his head: 28 divided by 2, plus 7 - "You don't think he's just a young-looking 21?" he asked hopefully. Rob gave him a raised eyebrow in response. Chris grinned and shook his head at himself. "Yeah, okay. How old, then? Eighteen? Seventeen? Don't say 17."

"Yeah, 18," Rob agreed, then added, "Hell, I don't know. Maybe he *is* 21. He's tall enough."

Chris's grin got wider. "Oh yeah. That'll make a great defense. 'But Officer, I didn't know he was underage. He's tall!'" Rob joined him in laughing.

+++

Riley shoved his hands in his front pockets and looked around idly at the crowd waiting to get in. The show was sold out, the line was long and littered with Steel Dragon shirts. Looking at them, Riley was suddenly very glad he hadn't been wearing his when he'd met Chris and Rob. As it was, he felt pretty bad about the way he'd talked to Chris but practically ignored Rob; he was here for the whole band, after all. For the music. Not only was this *not* Steel Dragon, but The Chris Cole Band wasn't even in the same genre. They were "alternative."

Like a lot of the crowd that had gathered, a part of Riley still loved Steel Dragon even though they were on the way down. Some of the hardcore fans said the decline began when Bobby Beers left and Chris took his place, but Riley thought the Chris Cole years were the best. Chris was his favorite because it had been Chris onstage when Riley had gone to his very first concert. So when he heard that The Chris Cole Band was playing in Des Moines, he *had* to come.

And here he was, just like he'd planned. Sort of. Originally, he'd intended to get to the club early enough for soundcheck and maybe even catch the guys coming out, but after his coffee shop encounter he'd thought it would be cooler to come just for the show. He didn't want to seem like a groupie - like *more* of a groupie. So he'd arrived about a half hour before the doors were scheduled to open, and now found himself far back with no hope of getting a good position inside. Of course, he was tall enough that he should be able to see from wherever he was - but he'd really wanted to be up close.

Riley leaned out of line and looked at the front. A guy with a clipboard was seated on a bar stool against the open club door. He looked kind of like Miguel Ferrer from "Twin Peaks." Of course it wasn't him, but Riley started thinking of him as "Miguel" anyhow. A young woman went up and said something to Miguel, who looked down at the clipboard and then nodded, letting her in as he made a notation on the clipboard.

The guest list. Riley wondered if Chris really had put him on it. He watched more people go up; some were waved through while others were turned away. He kept watching for a few more minutes, reluctant to make a fool of himself and not sure if he really wanted to know whether or not Chris had put his name on the list like he'd said he would.

**No pain, no gain, right?** Riley asked himself as he took a deep breath and finally stepped out of line. His fingers curled around the fake ID in his pocket; he hadn't used it yet and desperately hoped it would pass scrutiny in the big city. He stepped up to the guy - who looked even more like Miguel up close - and waited, hands still deep in his pockets.

Miguel glanced up, giving him an evaluative once-over. "You on the list?"

"Yeah," Riley said.

"Which list?" When Riley looked blank, he added, "Which band?"

"Um, Chris Cole. The Chris Cole Band," Riley said, wishing he felt more assured. Miguel's fingers deftly turned back to the top page. When Miguel gave him an expectant look, he said, "Oh, uh -Finn. Riley Finn."

Miguel scanned the list, and Riley felt his stomach sink when he flipped to the second page. He didn't feel too surprised when the guy looked up again and said, "Nope, sorry. Back of the line, pal."

Riley just nodded, trying not to feel like an asshole as he started away. Then something came to him and turned back almost hesitantly. "Excuse me, could you look under just 'Riley'?"

With an annoyed glance, Miguel humored him. This time when he flipped to the second page, he made a mark on the paper and nodded to Riley. When Riley just stood there, the guy pointed through the door and said, "Go ahead."

Riley tried to suppress his grin as he stepped inside and walked down the short hall; he knew his smile made him look younger, and he was so close now....

"Comp!" Miguel bellowed to the guy at the end of the hall, who nodded as Riley approached.

When Riley came to a stop and started reaching for his ID, the guy said, "No charge, man. You on the list, right?" Riley nodded and the guy held out the stamp. Riley thought he blew it by hesitating, but the guy just stamped him and said, "Have a good time."

There were a couple dozen people standing around casually. No one was at the front, and Riley figured that's because they were all friends of one of the bands and didn't feel the need to crowd the stage. Self-consciously, he moved over to the side where he would be less conspicuous and wouldn't block anyone's view. When the waitress came around, he went ahead and ordered himself a Sam Adams, just like Chris drank. He nursed his beer as the club slowly filled up, and politely turned his attention to the opening band when they came on about an hour later. Although some of the people in the front swayed along to the music and most people at least made an effort to clap at the end of the songs, there was a lot of chatting in the crowd. It was clear that everyone was here for Chris.

After the opening band left the stage, there was a gradual shift in the audience as people began to move in closer with a casual ease. The waitress wove her way through the crowd again and Riley got a second beer, promising himself this would be the last one. Not that he thought there was any danger of getting drunk, but he wanted to be completely alert for the show, not to mention the walk home afterwards.

Abruptly, the lights went down again and the club music cut out. Riley could feel the change in the air, everything and everybody turned up a notch as the band came onto the stage one by one. When they launched into their first song, illuminated by the stage lights, the crowd exploded. At least the girls at the front did, squealing over Chris and reaching out like it was a Steel Dragon show. Some of them looked like they were close to thirty or maybe even past it, yet they were still acting like teenagers. Riley sort of wished they'd shut up because he really wanted to listen to the music, especially the new stuff he hadn't heard before... but he couldn't really blame them. Especially not with Chris flirting right back with them. Riley shifted a little closer to the wall.

The band was *on* tonight, playing the music perfectly, playing the crowd perfectly. Especially Chris. His voice soared through the songs, and he was so fucking charismatic, each smile winning everyone over a little more, making everyone feel that smile was just for them... and they loved him. Every single person in the room loved Chris Cole. They loved the way he sang and moved and bent down periodically to grab his beer bottle, taking a long pull from it - and then Riley realized Chris had drained it. Riley looked around for the waitress but couldn't see her, so he left his spot and made his way back to the bar for another Sam Adams.

It was the middle of the next song before he was able to elbow his way back up to the front. He couldn't get right up to the stage because the squealing girls weren't budging at all, so Riley waited for Chris to turn in his direction and leaned over them, bottle extended. Chris came over to accept it, mouthing his thanks with a smile - but there was no special recognition. Riley tried not to feel bad about it as he pushed his way back over to the wall. As he leaned against it to watch the rest of the show, he told himself there was nothing to feel bad about, anyhow. Who cares if Chris Cole didn't remember him? He was here, even though he'd had to go against his father, sneak out and hitch to Des Moines, even though he expected to catch hell when he got home - he was *here,* at a Chris Cole gig, and it was all worth it. He grinned and let the music wash over him.

When the show was over, after the crowd had demanded and received its encore, Riley left the club still grinning. He saw some of the girls going down an alleyway, and followed them to the back entrance of the club. Surprisingly, they only had to wait a few minutes before the band came out. Chris was surrounded at once by girls asking for autographs and, no doubt, making offers in return. Riley hung back; somehow, he didn't want to ask for an autograph. It would be too anti-climactic or something. He already felt he was dampening the experience just by standing there, so he turned around and headed for the alleyway that would take him back to the street, the street that would take him back home -

"Riley!" Chris Cole's voice stopped him. He turned back and Chris stepped through the girls, face tilting up to make eye contact. "It's Riley, right?"

*****