Title: Don’t Look Away: Chapter Twenty-two, Smashing Smoke
Rating: NC-17 [language, alcohol, drugs, havoc, sex]

Summary: Keith has a birthday. John joins in on stage destruction. And the band performs on Smothers Brothers.





Standing in front of the five-tiered drum-shaped cake, Cady sighed. While it had been a nice gesture from the record companies, she did not think this was going to go well. Not only because she knew very well that Keith was not yet twenty-one, but because Keith drunk was like hand grenade with the pin pulled out. However, it was not her place to interject, so she merely wandered about the ballroom, away from the cake, in search of her boyfriend.

As she stepped into the hallway, John met her eyes and grinned. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from what was to become ground zero. He started happily chatting with her, trying to get her to smile by telling her silly stories about Pete growing up. Eventually a smile curved her lips slightly.

“There we go,” he grinned and kissed her temple. “Now tell me why you’re so down?”

“I have a really bad feeling about this party, John,” she admitted softly.

“Everything will be fine. It’s just a little party amongst friends.”

She stopped in the hallway, “I saw the cake, John. This will not be just a little party.”

“Don’t worry, love. Really. Let’s find Pete and have a pre-party drink. It will help relax you.”

An hour later, Pete, John, and Cady headed down to the party. Both The Who and Herman’s Hermits roadies and bands filled the ballroom. All sorts of alcohol was flowing and various party foods littered tables on the perimeter. Loud music blasted in the room and half-naked girls ran about. Had she not been slightly tipsy and sandwiched between two other men intent on joining the party, Cady likely would have turned and fled the party. She was not wholly against parties, but she knew Keith fairly well at this point and just knew it was going to get out of hand.

And it did. By midnight, Keith and his party friends left the hotel and began to hose down cars with fire extinguishers, for reasons Cady was not even about to understand. Had Pete not circled her with his arms, placing his chin on her shoulder to watch the goings on, she would have fled to the safety of her own room. They were quickly swept up into the group’s next destructive game. John poured another drink down her before pulling her to the balcony above the hotel’s pool, a smirk on his face.

“Stay here,” he instructed.

Before she could protest, John disappeared into the nearest open door. He reappeared a moment later with a television set in his hands, mirroring the actions of other partygoers, including Pete one room over. The two men met each other’s gazes for a brief moment before hoisting the televisions over their heads. Cady gasped, squealing a protest as a dozen appliances flew from the balconies, splashing into the pool below.

The party instantly hurried back to the ballroom, hoping that their presence there would not give away their guilt in what had just transpired. However, Keith was not about to give up in his antics. A moment later, cake began to fly through the air. Completely lost in the moment, the drummer did not realize the entire room had gone quiet and still, nor the cause of such. That is until someone ducked and the cake imploded in the sheriff’s face. Realizing what he just did, Keith turned and attempted to run. As drunk as he was, he tripped over his feet and slammed his face into the tiled floor of the hotel foyer.

While the police carted off Keith to the dentist, Pete, Cady, and John slipped out of the mess, hoping to remain clear of whatever punishments were being handed out for the party. They ducked into Pete and Cady’s room and quickly cleaned any traces of cake from their persons. Cady completely gave up and reached for her zipper, discarding her party dress into the laundry bag. Pete smacked the back of John’s head for watching her disrobe. Smirking, John turned away before getting a glimpse of breasts before she pulled her nightgown on.

“Do you think…” Cady slowly made her way over to Pete as he sat at the table rolling a joint. “That we should do… something for Keith?”

“Like what, love?” he glanced up at her.

She stood beside him, waiting for him to lean back so she could sit down, “I don’t know… bail him out?”

John laughed as he sat in the empty chair, beer in hand, “He’ll be fine, Cade.”

“I guess…” Cady snuggled into Pete’s lap as he lit the joint, took a deep hit, and handed it to John.

The bassist inhaled deeply before offering it to Cady, “He’ll be fine, Cade. Don’t worry about it.”

She accepted it, took a toke, and pressed it to Pete’s mouth, “But it’s his birthday.”

“So?” John responded. “He’s the one who got in trouble. He’ll be fine.”

Cady sighed, inhaled another hit, and passed it back to John, “I guess so.”

Pete kissed her cheek softly, “Just relax, baby. Close your eyes and relax.”

With a sigh, she closed her eyes and laid her head on his shoulder. The two men continued to pass the joint back and forth, sipping beers, and chatting idly about things she could not begin to follow or understand. Perhaps it was the marijuana on top of however much alcohol she drank that night. Whatever the reason, Cady could no longer follow the British accents and slang. With her eyes closed and one of Pete’s arms around her, keeping her from sliding out of his lap while the other animated his thoughts, Cady quickly began to drift off. Her bad feeling about the party had been completely founded. Yet she was tucked away safe in her hotel room – something she completely attributed to the two best friends in the room with her.



While he normally did not mind shopping at all, as a mod it was a regular occurrence, Pete was certainly not in the mood that day. He was far too keyed up about the upcoming TV appearance. He did not normally feel nerves at all before a performance, but there was something different that day. It might have had something to do with the fact the band was repeatedly kicked out of hotels because of Keith’s antics lately. He did not know. All he knew was that he did not want to be out shopping, and yet Cady was dragging him from store to store, looking for something.

“Cady,” he whined as they entered yet another men’s store, “I’m tired. Can we go back to the hotel now?”

“No. We have to find the right pants,” she declared.

“For what?”

She pulled a pair of pants off the rack and held them up to him, “For the show.”

“I can’t just wear what I have been for concerts?” he asked.

Her eyes went to his, “Of course you can. In fact, I think you should wear the gold jacket. However, at the last show, when you slid across the stage, you ruined your white pants beyond repair. That is why we are here.”

“Oh.”

“So you can’t wear them at the next couple of shows.”

“What am I supposed to wear then?”

“Pete, you have plenty of clothes. You will just not wear white pants for a couple of shows. No one will notice,” she declared. “Come try these on.”

“Caaaaaaaady,” he whined, following her to the fitting room.

“Oh stop. Be good and you’ll be rewarded.”

“How?”

Cady stopped and turned quickly. Their mouths met, her tongue briefly slipping into his surprised mouth. With a wink, she pulled back and held out the pants, pointing to the fitting room. A few minutes passed before he opened the door and stepped out, the white pants hugging him a bit too tightly. Cady smiled crookedly, told him to remain where he was, and hurried to get another pair of pants. With another pair of trousers in hand, she joined him in the fitting room, helping him out of the tighter pants. As she turned to clip the pants back on the hanger, Pete’s hands ran up her back, slipping around to grope her breasts.

With a smile, she pressed her ass back against his crotch and wiggled suggestively. Cady met him in a kiss over her shoulder. Her right hand reached back and flipped up the back of her skirt as he nibbled on her bottom lip. Pete continued to grind against her, focusing his mouth on hers to keep both of them quiet. Her fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties, tugging until they dropped to the floor. With little adieu, she reached back and did the same to Pete’s briefs. Her fingers briefly caressed his thickening cock before she wiggled slightly again, spreading her legs apart more.

“Oh baby,” Pete breathed softly as her fingers guided him into her body.

“Slow, Pete. Go slow.”

Though he was not sure that he could do as she asked, he vowed softly to try. When she had hinted at some sort of sexual favor for his good shopping behavior, he had certainly not expected her to be so aroused, so wet. Yet each of his thrusts filled the dressing room with a sexy squish, which only heightened his own arousal. Her hands left his body and pressed flat against the wall.

“Oh god, baby,” he breathed, feeling his body already beginning to tense. “I’m going to…”

“Yes, Pete,” she whispered heatedly.

Within a few heated moments, Pete’s orgasm filled Cady’s body. She waited until he finished pulsing inside her to turn around, licked his cock clean, and pulled his underwear back on. After quickly pulling her own back into place, she removed the new size of white trousers from the hanger and held them out to him.

Pete stared at her in disbelief, “Cady, we just… and now you’re all…business again?”

She winked, “The sooner we find the right pants, the sooner we can get back to the hotel and you can help me feel the pleasure you just did.”



Eyes focused on Pete’s hands, Cady frowned. She could see bloody splattering his guitar already and the show was only halfway through. It was not the first time that she had noticed it, but for some reason that night it seemed worse. Perhaps he had injured his fingers more than she thought, or even worse pulled a fingernail off on the guitar strings. It really started to worry her, almost wanting to interrupt the show to bandage up his fingers. Nevertheless, she stayed in the wings, trying to not focus on Pete’s hands the entire time.

When the band began to bash the stage with their instruments, Cady turned away, intending to find the first aid kit to tend to her boyfriend. She retrieved bandages and gauze before returning to her location in the wings. Her mouth instantly dropped open. Not because Pete and Keith had completely decimated their instruments and Roger had broken his micstand into pieces, but rather because cool and collected John was on his knees, slamming his bass into the stage.

The Band-Aids and gauze in her hands dropped to the floor, rolling slightly onto the stage. Though she could hear the band encouraging the bassist to take part in the destruction, she could not believe he was doing it. Never before had John taken part in the wanton demolition. He tended to step aside, holding onto his bass. This was a complete flip and she did not know how to handle it at all.

Repeatedly he slammed Fender bass into the stage floor, but it did not bend or break under the pounding. During one of the bass’s bounce, the head smacked John in the forehead. Apparently, this was enough to enrage the bassist and he became more aggressive in his demolition.

Finally, the instrument cracked. He tossed it to the stage and stormed off, the rest of the band struggling to hide their amusement.

Though her heart went out to John, wanting to find him backstage to ask about his little display, Cady scooped up the first aid items before anyone could trip over them on their exit. Pete’s arm circled her waist before she could protest, certain he would smear blood on her dress, and he led her from the stage. Pulling away, she pointed to the first empty chair. While Pete protested weakly, she held her ground. She was handed a wet towel as he sat down, his hands tenderly wiped of blood.

Flinching, Pete tried to pull his hand from hers, “Bloody hell, woman. What do you think you’re–”

“Stop being such a baby and let me take care of you,” she instructed.

Pete watched as she cleaned each finger tenderly, kissing each. He smiled slightly as she bound each with bandages, again kissing his wounds. Cady’s eyes met his and she smiled before kissing his mouth once more.

“I’ll take better care of them once we’re back at the hotel, but that will do for now,” she stated softly.

“I am so lucky to have you,” he declared, kissing her again.

“Yes, you are. Who else would take care of you after you hurt yourself during a show?”

“No clue at all,” he smiled. “So glad I have you. The other guys aren’t so lucky.”

“The other guys don’t hurt themselves seemingly nightly.”

Pete smirked, “John did tonight though. Did you see him?”

She paused in thought, “What do you think got into him? I’ve never seen John so much as flinch on stage before.”

“I don’t know. Let’s go find out,” he grinned, getting to his feet.

“Pete,” Kit stepped forward, “I need you to come speak with a few men from the local paper.”

“But–”

“Now,” he declared.

Pete kissed Cady quickly, “Go check on John. I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”

Watching her boyfriend walk away with the manager she despised, Cady turned and stepped around roadies packing up what was left of the band’s gear. She paused and asked a few if they had seen John, getting vague directions to seek him outside. Leaving the venue, she glanced around before her blue eyes fell on a man in black, leaning against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette. Wordlessly she approached him, slipped his cigarette from his fingers, and took a deep drag before handing it back.

“So what was that all about?” she asked, eyes boldly meeting his.

John merely blinked, sucking on his cigarette.

Cady reached up, her fingers tenderly brushing his hair from his face, “Looks like it smacked you in the face. Let’s go put some ice on it.”

“No.”

“John, if you don’t it will swell up and be twice as noticeable and–”

“I am not bloody going back in there,” he growled softly.

“Ah,” she nodded, glancing down the alleyway. “Walk with me?”

He considered it for a moment before nodding and pushing away from the wall. The two friends headed away from the venue, slipping out of the alley unnoticed by most everyone. They did not speak as they passed bars and other night venues, slowly making their way to the hotel not far away. John paused twice, once to stub out a cigarette and a block later to light a new one. Cady stole a few more drags, but did not push him to speak.

“Can I at least get you to put ice on it back at the hotel?”

“Cady…”

“I’m not trying to hurt or protect your pride, whichever you think it is. It’s just… well not only am I concerned about you, John, as this is out of character, but you are going to make your American debut on TV soon. Wouldn’t you rather not be known as the Brit with a black eye?” she asked.

He sighed, grinding out the second cigarette, “No, not really.”

“Then you’ll let me ice it?”

His blue eyes met hers under a street lamp, a brief glimpse of unspoken pain flashing through them, “I suppose so.”

Though she ached to know what was behind what he briefly let her see, Cady did not press it. Instead, she smiled sweetly, nodded, and turned in direction of the hotel once more. They continued in silence for another block; his fingers once brushing hers though neither attempted to clasp hands.

“If you don’t want Keith to bother us while I’m icing your forehead, you can come to my room,” Cady offered.

“Your room? Don’t you mean Pete’s room?”

“No… not precisely,” she responded vaguely.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Cady stopped at the street corner across from the hotel, “Pete and Roger are technically supposed to be sharing a room, like you and Keith do. It certainly isn’t in the band’s finances to put anyone up in a solo room. And I’m technically not supposed to be here, as you know, but Kit can’t stop me because I have made all the arrangements myself and paid for it all as well. Haven’t you noticed that my and Pete’s room isn’t with the rest of the tour’s rooms?”

John thought on it for a moment, “Now that you mention it, yes. But how can you afford to do all of this? Aren’t you an artist who doesn’t show or sell her work?”

She smiled crookedly, “I don’t consider myself an artist, but that’s another conversation. I’m… independently… well… you promise to not tell anyone?”

“Of course,” he watched as a van full of roadies drove pass them, shouting out the windows to the two.

“Nevermind,” she shook her head. “Let’s go take care of your head.”

Downing a quick whiskey while Cady wrapped ice in a small towel, John laid back on one of the beds in Pete and Cady’s hotel room. He smiled at her as she brushed his hair aside again before setting the ice on it. As she was mixing him another drink, Pete stepped into the room. His eyes flicked from his girlfriend to his best mate and back again, letting the door close behind him. Cady handed John’s drink over before returning to mix one for Pete. 

He pulled her into his lap after sitting and accepting his drink, “Don’t I have the most wonderful girlfriend in the whole world?”

Cady flushed before he kissed her, “Pete, stop.”

John smirked, “You are very lucky, mate.”

“Don’t I know it,” he grinned at his mate. “I see she convinced you to let her take care of you. She’s already doctored my fingers.”

“Hardly,” Cady protested, attempting to get out of his lap. “But now that you’re here, I can properly take care of them.”

“I’m fine, love,” Pete declared, wiggling his bandaged fingers. “Better than they would have been if you hadn’t been here.”

She relaxed, knowing he was not about to let her go, “I suppose so. But fresh bandages before breakfast, please.”

“Fine, fine, all right,” he agreed, knocking back the rest of his drink, the hand around her waist slipping up slightly in hopes of cupping her breast.

Cady’s hand slapped down on his, “Not tonight, Pete.”

John slowly sat up, one hand holding ice in an empty glass, the other holding the ice to his head, “I’ll head back to my room and let you two–”

“Nonsense,” she interjected. “You stay right there and rest. Pete and I can sleep just fine in the other bed. Keith will just harass you if you go back to your room tonight and I don’t think you want that.”

His blue eyes met hers, hesitating for a moment. John nodded slightly before leaning back against the pile of pillows she had heaped against the headboard. Cady wiggled out of Pete’s lap, which allowed the guitarist to refill his own drink before moving to refill the other empty glass. He chuckled as Cady removed John’s shoes, tossing them to the floor. As the two men fell into conversation about the night’s performance, she shook her head and headed to the bathroom, pausing to pick up her nightgown. She was certain she would be able to sleep soundly, even if they talked for hours. Her job for the night was done.



Normally he was not the least bit nervous about playing, not even to a television audience. He did not necessarily think that he was nervous, but something was not quite right. As Cady breezed by once more, hurrying to check on something else before the show, Pete figured it out: his girlfriend was near freaking out. With Kit not around, leaving the band managing to Chris for the evening for some reason, Cady’s presence quickly became a blessing. Not only did she seem to have a knack for quickly problem solving, she understood the American psyche. She knew how big this performance was; perhaps more than anyone else.

His hand darted out and stopped her, “Cady, love… are you okay?”

Her eyes went to his and she smiled, “Pete, there’s a lot to do. This has to be perfect.”

He quickly kissed her, “Love, it will be perfect. We’ve been on television shows before. It will be fine.”

“But, Pete, this show will be huge for the band. If it goes perfect, the band will make such a big impact in the country,” she stated. “Even bigger than Monterey Pop.”

“Sound check went fine, though I think Keith was disappointed with his explosion. You can relax, Cady, really,” he assured her.

Cady smiled slightly, “I’ll be fine. I just need to check on John’s bass.”

“He can do that, love.”

“No, no. The new one just arrived. I need to sign for it and then get it delivered to him so he can make certain it will be good to play tonight,” she pulled away from him. “I will be back shortly, Pete. Promise.”

He nodded as she hurried off, shaking his head.

Cady reached the door, apologizing to the delivery boy. Scribbling for the delivery, she thanked him and headed to find John, carrying a bass in a hard case. With a few questions, she found the location of the bassist and tiptoed up behind him. Pressing her finger to her mouth, she shushed Keith before he loudly greeted her. A moment later, she blew on John’s ear.

He flinched slightly before turning around, smiling to conceal his surprise, “‘ello, Cade.”

She grinned, “I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

Cady held up the case. John’s eyes dropped to the case and instantly widened. He reached for the case, his fingertips running over the edge of the case. Slowly he slipped it from her grip, turned and set it down, clicking it open.

“Cade…”

“Well after the other night, I figured you needed a replacement,” she stated.

“You did this?” he stood, turning to face her.

Her eyes flicked to Keith, “Of course not. The band did. Keith, if you put more explosives in the drum, I will kill you.”

“Don’t you worry, love. Everything is going to be just fine,” he grinned.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well, love, why don’t you go have a look then?”

Cady blinked, “I will. I’ll give you a five minute head start to clear it out.”

Keith could not remain unplussed and turned, hurrying onto the stage to his kit. Cady’s blue eyes went back to John.

“Yes, it’s from me,” she spoke softly.

“How?” he kept his voice low.

“That doesn’t matter. You had better check it over to make certain it meets your standards. I know how to buy guitars, but I don’t know anything about bass guitars,” she stated. “I better go check on Keith’s kit. Good luck tonight.”

Returning to Pete fifteen minutes later, Cady kissed him. Instantly noticing that she was much more relaxed than before, he smiled. He cuddled her happily, waving off the show’s handlers trying to get him to the stage. She giggled and pushed him away.

“Come on, love. Let’s go blow the minds of the America.”

Standing in the wings beside Bette Davis and Mickey Rooney, Cady watched the band perform with a pleased smirked on her face. Their introductions were humorous and the song was going well. She had every reason to believe everyone watching the show in the studio audience or on the television would remember the band forever.

Smoke fired behind Pete as he windmilled at the end of the song, just as planned. He tossed his guitar into the air, letting it slam down on the stage. Methodically he began to bash it on the stage, throw it into the amplifiers, and slam it into the riser Keith sat on. Roger twirled his microphone a couple of times before tossing aside and grabbing one of Keith’s cymbals, hitting it before discarding. John cradled his new bass, stepping as close to the edge of stage as possible without leaving. His blue eyes watched the destruction as Pete settled in the center of the stage to break up his guitar, right in front of Keith’s kit.

Keith’s explosives fired with a large boom. Though expected, Cady’s eyes instantly went wide as the explosion hit Pete. She knew without a doubt that blast was not the result of the agreed upon smoke bomb. It had flashed and rattled even her ears. Drum parts, Keith, and Pete went flying. Both John and Roger remained unscathed on the sides of the stage, but Cady paid them no attention at all. Her eyes were focused intently upon her boyfriend, noticing the confused daze in his eyes, the slight singe of his hair. It made her blood boil – enough that she did not notice or care that Bette Davis had fainted beside her. She did not even care that Keith was moaning in pain, with Roger standing over him. Pete smashed the acoustic guitar brought on stage by Tommy Smothers, but even that seemed disconnected. Cady was completely furious.

Once the cameras cut away from the stage, she stalked directly out, stopping in front of the drummer. His brown eyes turned to hers and widened. He swallowed guiltily. She did not care that he was slightly concussed or that his arm was bleeding. His mouth opened in some attempt to apologize or explain. 

Cady glared at him in disgust, “Save it. I will deal with you later.”

Turning about she went to Pete’s side. He did not seem to hear when she greeted him, forcing her to reach to him to get his attention. His dazed blue eyes looked into hers. Biting her bottom lip to keep from frowning, Cady surrounded his face with her hands, her fingers buried slightly in his singed hair. With worry in her eyes, she kissed him softly and sighed. Her hand traced down his arm, fingers intertwining with his. Wordlessly she led him from the stage. Her first priority was making certain Pete was okay. Then she was going to make Keith fear the day he crossed her.