“I did, when I was learning, before I learned to trust that my fingers knew the chords better than my brain did.” I said, once I’d turned his head so he’d be able to hear me. “He’s paying too much attention to his hands, second-guessing, which is sad, because his playing changes every time he glances up, gets smoother, and takes on an even flow instead of being choppy.”
If he were still curious, I’d explain more when we got home tonight, after our showers, when we were snuggled up in bed. Get me talking about music and there would be no stopping me, which probably meant it would work the same as when I told him stories, and he’d drift right off to sleep.
Their singer needed to turn his mic up, or the rest of the guys needed to turn their amps down. Either way, he was hard to hear over the guitars, bass, and drums that accompanied him. It was impossible to tell if he had a good voice or not. My gaze drifted back to the guitarist. His head was slightly tilted up, enough to let his eyes drift over the crowd. In those few moments, the rift he was playing took on another life, passionate and inspired,before he ducked his head again and made himself mess up a few minutes later by focusing too hard.
By the time they finished their five-song set, they didn’t sound any different from any other struggling garage band. They brought a ton of energy to their performance, though they rarely interacted with one another. Whether they were still in the feeling-out period, waiting to see if they gelled with one another, or so early in the performance phase as a band that they were afraid of tripping over something or crashing into one another was hard to tell, but it clearly affected their performance.
The cheers were lackluster when they finished, and most folks turned their attention right back to the conversations they’d been having before the band came on. When the waitress came by, we had our drinks refilled with Griff ordering a Coke instead of a Sprite, but he’d always been a cola guy with a caffeine addiction. As soon as they’d started making caffeinated water, he’d started drinking that too. I swear, if they made caffeinated milk, his lactose-intolerant ass would be pouring it on his damn cereal for the extra buzz.
“Are you getting tired, sweetheart?” I asked Payden.
“No, this is fun, plus I have tomorrow off and get to sleep in as long as I want and do absolutely nothing but watch movies and play with you once I get up,” he replied.
“Really?” I asked, smirking as he nodded his head. “And what kind of games do you have in store for me?”
“All kinds,” he replied, then leaned in so he could whisper in my ear. “Including naughty ones.”
Oh yeah, tomorrow was gonna to be awesome!
Steve took the mic again, and a hush fell over the crowd because fog had begun to roll out thick until all I could see was shadows moving through it as the band, Death’s Doorstep, took the stage, and holy shit, they grabbed the crowd’s attention right from the jump when their lead singer strutted through the fogwith black hair streaked with electric purple hues, and enough hardware in his face that it had to be a bitch for him to get through airport security.
It didn’t stop there either. I could see metal beneath the shimmery indigo top he wore, and when his leather kilt billowed, there was a fucking corset piercing running up his thigh. Fucker even had purple contacts in, and the rest of the band was just as goth-ed out. Their sound was heavy but grungy too, dark, but man, when he delivered those lyrics, he dragged you into the abyss right with him. I could have listened to him for the rest of the night, but their set only allowed them six songs.
They were amazing ones, though.
At one point, the singer crawled across the stage during a guitar solo and stayed on his knees while the guitarist continued to play. Everything about the interaction felt natural, from the way the singer stared up at the guitar player, worship and adoration etched into his face, to the way the guitarist stepped over top of him until the singer bent backward, lying beneath the guitarist’s spread legs, the lights dipping lower and lower as the fog washed over them again while the singer delivered the final, chilling words to the song.
Then there was silence.
Yeah, we called for an encore, the whole damned room exploded, and since they were the last band of the night, Steve had them come back out and perform two more songs.
The singer stood behind their keyboard setup for one, and as he had during pieces in their first set, he played, though this time, it was for longer than the intro. His guitar player’s answering chords were like a plea, as his bass player joined the singer on the harmony of the song. The drums were light, until their drummer busted out a somber rhythm, joined by the bass player. They didn’t just play the song, they performed it and theone they finished the encore with before bowing and leaving the stage.
“Now that might be a band for you to meet and think about interviewing for one of your features,” I suggested to Payden. “Something tells me that they will not remain a local band for long.”
His eyes widened before he nodded enthusiastically, and returned to people watching, drinking in the atmosphere in the room.
We'd wait for the crush to die down, chill a bit longer with Griff, Shadow, and Lucas, but not too long. I wanted my boy to enjoy himself tomorrow, not be grumpy and try to sleep the day away, because I fully intended to enjoy whatever games he had planned to their fullest.
And maybe dream up a few of my own.
Chapter Seventeen
Payden
“Daddy, that was so much fun last night,” I shoved a big scoop of ice cream and waffles in my mouth. Dessert for breakfast was the best thing ever and the people at the venue agreed with me. “The place was packed.”
“Little uni, chew your food before you choke,” Daddy shook his head. “But yeah, it was. Shocked as hell to not only find Shadow was there but to have Griff show up. I’m glad he’s getting the help he needs, and I hope like hell he sticks with it.”
“I felt so dumb, not knowing who the people I was sitting with were, but Lucas was super cool and told me to web search Maiden Voyage. They seem like a big deal.”
“Considering the fact they’re diamond award winning billionaires, I’d say so.”
I choked. “They’re what?”
Daddy grinned. “Maiden Voyage is one of the top metal bands in the world. They don’t tour much anymore, just attend a couple of huge festivals a year like Rocktoberfest. Social Sinners is right behind them.” His phone chimed. “It’s your Dad, texting to get all the deets from last night.” As soon as he sat his phone back down, after replying to Dad, it rang.
“This is Stone,” he listened for a few seconds and rolled his eyes. “Right, likeThe Easton Mastersonwould call me. He doesn’t even have my number. Nice try, dude.” He ended the call and tossed his phone down. “The nerve of some guys. If this is what applying for jobs gets me, I’m gonna have to try it from another angle.” I shrugged and got back to eating but it was my phone that rang next.
