Dirty Secret

Drummers Stick Together

"Oi, Jonesy! We made The Rolling Stone!" Rufus Taylor called over to his best friend, waving the magazine. Nikki Jones set the beer she was drinking onto the bar top and sauntered over to the leather couch where her English brother from another sit with his feet propped on the coffee table. "Who the fucks 'We'?" She asked, taking the magazine, and flipping through it until she came across a black and white picture of herself and Rufus, being, well, themselves. She chuckled, "Drummers Stick Together." She read out loud, she winked at Rufus, "I see what they did there." She quietly scanned the article, describing their tight knit friendship. "Though they repeatedly get accused of dating and are proudly 'shipped' by fans, the two are really just a couple of drummers who became inseparable after the first tour their bands shared." She frowned, "Rufus Taylor was recently questioned yet again about the relationship, to which he smiled fondly and said 'She's a bit of a nutter, but she's my best mate." She looked at Rufus, who burst out laughing, "You're such a fuck, Ru." She said, rolling her eyes. She finished the article, "They keep calling me Nikki Stixx." She said, tossing the magazine to Rufus's lap, "I suppose I have you to thank for that." Rufus scratched his head, "I like it, it suits you." She shrugged and leaned back against the couch. "You get the band list yet?" She asked, referring to the list of bands signed on to the next tour taking place the next month. "They've posted it, but I haven't really looked." This would be the fourth tour Rufus's band, The Darkness would be going on with Nikki's band, Hard Knox. "Probably the usual anyway, I know Kaleo dropped out, Greta Van Fleet signed on in their place." Nikki nodded, "Yeah, I'd heard that too." She'd liked Greta Van Fleet's music, but hadn't yet met the members.  "You know what they're like?" She asked Rufus. He shook his head, "Nah, but they toured with The Struts, and they loved them." That was a good sign. Nothing was worse than going on tour with people you didn't like. "Let's get some Tacos." Nikki said, getting up, "Then we should make a beer run." Rufus groaned, stretching, "C'mon, mate, I just got here." He had flown to Knoxville from England that morning and was staying with Nikki for a month before tour took off. "We gotta eat, and I'm outta beer." She said, tossing his leather jacket at him. He reluctantly stood, following her to the door, "I knew I should've stayed at a hotel." He muttered, sporting a frown that was identical to his Dad's. "Awww." Nikki cooed, opening the front door for him, "Gonna lock yourself in a cupboard and pout about it, Mr. Taylah?" He put his sunglasses on and pushed by her, "Fuck off." She laughed, locking the door behind them. He deserved it, the bastard, for calling her a nutter in Rolling fucking Stone.