I guess that’s not fair of me to say. There’s a chance she doesn’t know the song was stolen, but it’s doubtful.
Carmen stumbles as she exits the stage, and that’s when the booing starts. I’m surrounded by people who make the displeased sound, sending her rushing even faster. The teen had dreams of hitting it big and thought using my girl’s songs would get her there faster, but she’s getting an epic slap back.
From the first moment I met her… I knew I didn’t like her. Nothing she does can change my mind either. Sometimes you get a feeling that someone isn’t a good person, and it turns out to be true. I never ignore that sensation in my gut. Although I suppose it’s not foolproof, since I completely misread Raina’s uncle.
Nerves send my heart into a throbbing rhythm. Tonight might be the night. Last show was amazing. I almost cried when I saw her on stage. So close, yet so far away. I wanted nothing more than to jump up there and swing her into my arms.
Instead, I hung back. I didn’t want to throw Raina off even more when I could see she was reeling from the devastation of hearing her song coming out of the mouth of someone who burned bridges from the moment they met.
Not only that, but she was claiming it was hers.
What I’m wondering is if anyone knew about Raina’s video showing them creating the music from the ground up. Would they have exposed themselves if they knew the target audience would know about the thievery so quickly? Was it their plan to make Raina sound crazy if she chose to object to the plagiarism?
“Oh my god. You’re Tristan!” A teen with a huge smile stands in front of me. She holds up her sign, practically shoving it in my face to make sure I see it.I love Raina!is printed in large bubble letters across the expanse, then below it in smaller letters is#TeamTristan.
She doesn’t wait for me to confirm or deny; instead, she bulldozes on. “Can you sign my board? I hope you get to seeRaina tonight. I’ll have to tell everyone I pass that you’re here. We’ll help her realize you’re waiting for her!”
Is this the kind of fame Raina deals with everywhere she goes? No wonder she barely left the beach house. A Sharpie is thrust toward me, demanding my signature before I’ve even said yes.
Entitled little shit.
Not that I wouldn’t‘ve said yes, there’s simply a lack of respect in not waiting for it. I grab the marker and take off the cap, signing my name next to the hashtag.
“Thanks, bye!” She twirls around and leaves before I’ve even said one word to her. Will she regret that later, or even remember the interaction correctly? I bet her memory will fill in responses from me…
Fucking fame.
I’ve only had a taste of it, yet I understand why Raina has tried to avoid being in the public eye. It’s not something you can truly understand unless you experience it firsthand.
I’ll take it though if it means having her by my side.
The roadies finish changing the stage over and the crowd roars their cheers into the air. “Raina! Raina! Raina!”
I only got to experience one show as her lead guitarist, but the high you get from hearing that sound summoning you to the stage is something you never forget. Even standing here now, I sense the energy swirling around me, my fingers itching to grab an instrument.
Sharp pain lances through my ribs when someone bumps into me in their rush to find their seats. Mine is at the top of the auditorium. I’m not sure how long it will take me to actually get in contact with any of the band, so I grabbed the cheapest tickets I could find.
Hopefully, I get to stand in the lower deck hallway long enough to attempt getting to Raina. I shouldn’t attempt jumping the rails to get to the stage with my broken ribs, but it’s lookinglike my best chance right now. I want to wait till the end of her show, though. No need to ruin it for everyone else who wants to see her perform.
Keaton steps onto the stage first, his drumsticks held tightly in his hands, his face a serious mask of calmness, though I catch the way he looks at Darius…
The man who took my spot in the band. The videos of Raina and my best friends have been posted from his account, which can only mean it was his idea. I’m not sure if I should hate him for existing or if I should be grateful for encouraging my girl to flip the script.
As Darius struts onto the stage, his guitar slung low on his hip, the crowd goes wild. It’s not just the team Darius crowd either. He’s a natural showman, soaking in their adoration. He flashes a charismatic smile, one that’s as rehearsed as it is captivating, but the tightness at the corners of his eyes reveals a hint of something darker. I grind my teeth at the sight of him with Raina’s band. The band that was once mine.
Blake and Nash join them, the latter with a hint of anger in his eyes. His joyful smile is a mask to the audience; only someone who knows him as well as I do would know the truth he’s hiding. Although, I can’t know for sure what he’s so mad at. Is he pissed that I’m missing? Does it have to do with Darius and our woman fake dating—I can only hope that’s the case. I can’t face a world where I’ve lost my chance with her. Or maybe it’s at the fact some plagiarizing cunt is hurting the love of my life?
Anticipation swells through the audience as Keaton perches on his drum stool. He raises his sticks in the air and the crowd quiets, a palpable tension settling over the packed venue. With a swift downward motion, the first beats of their opening song reverberate throughout the stadium.
“Excuse me, sir, you need to find your seat. Can I please see your ticket?” A woman dressed in a bright yellow venue shirt asks, holding out her hand to see my seat assignment.
I ignore her, raising my hand to wave at a group of girls who have spotted me and are waving. It gives me the perfect cover that they’re the group of friends I’m here with. Striding forward, I leave the woman behind me and seek a new place to hide that isn’t my actual designated spot.
Finding an empty seat at the edge of a row, I slip into it, knowing I probably won’t be able to stay here for long.
My gaze focuses forward once again, right in time as she appears.
Raina steps onto the stage like she owns it, her figure bathed in a pool of radiant light. She’s in a sparkly ensemble that catches every beam cast upon it, making her shine like a star against the sprawling darkness behind her, beads swishing back and forth on her legs, emphasizing the sway of her hips. Her hair cascades down her shoulders and her lips are an alluring shade of passion red.
