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The lights flicker on. That's my cue. I'm the one who starts this. The crowd screams as I strum my guitar. My nerves make my fingers slow and stupid. Little by little, I shake off everything but the music flowing from my instrument and the energy flowing back from the crowd.
The crowd bursts into applause when we finish the first song.
Miles looks back to me and motions come here. Then he's blowing kisses to the crowd. "I'm sure you all remember Mr. Ethan Strong, the lead guitarist of Dangerous Noise."
The crowd cheers and claps for me the same way they do for Sinful Serenade. Then people are chanting my name.
Miles laughs. "He's doing us a big favor filling in for Drew tonight." He waits until the crowd stops screaming for Drew. "He wanted to be here, but his girl's expecting and he's quite the committed baby daddy."
The cheers get the loudest they've been. I guess it figures that Sinful Serenade's predominantly female fan base would swoon over a responsible rock star father-to-be.
"I know you're crying your eyes out that I'm off the market." Miles winks at me. He turns to the crowd as he holds up is left hand to show off his wedding ring. "But Ethan here is single. So how about you let him know how badly you want him… to play."
I know how to play my part. I'm the sexy manwhore guitarist. I find a girl in the general admission and wink at her. She gasps and squeezes her friend's arm.
I look back to the side of the stage. Violet is standing there, watching me with a smile spread across her face. When she catches my gaze she motions take it off.
Good advice. I tug at my t-shirt, teasing the crowd. The cheers get louder. Louder. Fuck it. I pull the t-shirt over my head and toss it into the crowd.
The woman who catches it squeals with pleasure.
Miles laughs. He motions for me to hit my cue.
And I do. This time, my fingers find their footing by the third note.
The crowd screams as the lights go off.
My hands are aching and I'm so slick with sweat my guitar won't stay in place.
Instinct is the only thing that gets me off the stage. Then I'm backstage, being ushered by Jim into a private room. It's nice for a dressing room. It's clean, bright, and empty save for a couch and a table with snacks.
Miles pats me on the shoulder. "Good job. You killed it."
Tom nods. "Fucker, that's my line." He smiles at me then he turns to Miles. "You gotta remind women I'm taken or they'll get disappointed."
"Yeah?" Miles raises a brow. "You think there's anybody alive who doesn't know you're married when you post photo by my wife next to every naked pic o
n your Instagram?"
"Want to show off her talent." Tom laughs. "We're a talented couple."
"Her name—" Miles motions to his hipbone "—is in half the shots. People get it." Miles turns to Pete, the Sinful Serenade bassist. "Did take balls getting Willow that close to his dick."
Pete chuckles. He brushes a long, dark bang from his face and makes eye contact with me. "You did kill it, Ethan. We all owe you one."
"You guys would have done the same." I slide my hand into the back pocket of my jeans.
Tom shakes his head. "Fuck no. You couldn't pay me to play for three hours straight." He looks to Miles. "Would you?"
Miles shakes his head.
Pete too.
"Damn, we're all old and jaded." Tom winks at me. "When I first picked up a pair of sticks, you had to pry me away from my drum kit. And Ethan jumped to fill in for Drew. Fuck, I should bow or some shit."
"You should," Miles says.
Tom does bow.
