“Ready to go?” Tommy waves and we move toward the exit, where the bus is waiting and we appear to be the last two to arrive.
Ross and I follow him outside and up the steps.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Kingston as I sit down.
“He has laryngitis,” Devyn replies, holding up a hand to stop him when he opens his mouth. “He called his doctor back in LA, who told him not to talk at all until the show. I’ve had him drinking tea with lemon and honey all afternoon, and this other concoction the doctor suggested. He hasn’t spoken a word since this morning and he’s hoping his voice will last long enough to get through most of the show.”
Kingston types something on his phone and shows it to Devyn, who reads it aloud. “You all need to plan for extended solos so I can sing less, and I’ve switched up the set to songs where I either sing less or are easier on my voice. And I’m not doing soundcheck either.”
Everyone nods.
“I can sing ‘Not Going Away,’” Z says. He wrote the power ballad for his wife, so he sometimes sings it live anyway.
“And I’m down to sing ‘Shiny Pieces,’” Tommy adds. “It’s from the first album—no one will notice if I screw up the lyrics.”
“I beg to differ,” I say primly, trying not to laugh. “It’s one of my favorites.”
They all grin at me, and I sit back, listening to them discussing the set and their plans to compensate for Kingston’s limited singing ability. It reminds me of other days, when Tommy and Harley first got together, and we spent almost every night of the week listening to them rehearse or play live around Hollywood.
We all knew they were going to be big, but we never imagined how big. Or how fast it would happen.
I loved being able to watch it happen, even though it slowly destroyed my sister.
“You look melancholy all of a sudden,” Ross says as we walk down the long hallway toward the underground backstage area of the arena.
“I was just thinking about the early days, when we used to hang out and party on the bus during their first tour. Before things took off.”
“I wasn’t around yet,” he replies. “I came on for their second album and tour. And they were already getting big by then.”
“It was a crazy time. I was just out of college, but Harley and Tommy were together, so I spent almost every free night watching and listening. There were so many good times. It was enchanting. I had to stop coming around as much after they got divorced, and I’ve missed the magic that surrounds them. As someone on the outside looking in, I can’t imagine what it’s like to see something you wrote suddenly become a household name. Like writing some random words and then seeing millions of people sing them.”
“It is pretty magical,” he admits, looking away.
The faraway look in his eyes makes me long to touch him.
Comfort him.
Say or do something to make that pain go away.
But he doesn’t want that comfort, at least not from me, and I already pushed it enough.
If I want to be his friend, and I really do, I have to keep my mouth shut and mind my own business.
That’s all there is to it.
Chapter Seven
Ross
Onyx Knight is typically a well-oiled machine. Everyone, from the band to the crew to support staff, knows their jobs and does them well. Unless there’s a technical problem or something breaks unexpectedly, we’re prepared for almost anything. I have to keep an eye on things from start to finish, but once they hit the stage, all I have to do is watch. The techs know how to handle broken strings or if the sound goes out or anything else that might go wrong. The sound and light guys have this down to a science, and most arenas have capable, efficient staff to make sure things go smoothly.
However, no one can do anything about Kingston’s voice.
All we can do is hold our collective breath and pray for the best.
He definitely isn’t himself tonight.
His energy is fine, but he’s singing much lower registers and his voice has already cracked a few times.
