I jump a little, feeling Jett’s hot breath on my ear as he’s about to get into hisbig Halloween reveal. “Now that’s my dream, Baby. You sitting right there, every night. Is that selfish?”
I can’t help the smile that creeps across my lips. “Probably.”
A deep rumble, “You like it when I’m selfish with you, Baby? Itmakes you wet knowing Idon’t want to share you with anyone? That Iwant you right there, just for me?”
“Maybe.” Ifeel the crotch of my sexy black catsuit answering for me.
“I’m so proud of you for going out there tonight. Iknow it’s hard. But I’ll be there with you, all right? You look sofit, darling. I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you up there.” He looks me up and down like he’s checking out some hottie he hasn’t met, and it makes me snort. “Actually, there’s one thing missing, Baby.” He pulls one of his little notepads and a pen out of his back pocket, handing them to me. “Here, now it’s complete.”
“Is our movie inspiration about to strike me?” Iask, flipping mindlessly through the blank pages.
“Oh, Ivery much hope it is.” His lips snag mine, biting them apart, our tongues melting together, until my blood is bubbling like that witch’s brew earlier.
“What was…” Igasp for air. “In that caldron?”
“Got you feeling better, Baby?”
“Best I’ve felt all day, don’t know if that’s saying much, but yeah.”
“Good.” He snags one more kiss. “But I’ll never tell what’s in my secret recipe. It’s definitelynotgreen apple schnapps!”
I laugh and let him go. Istare at the blank pages for a while, but the roar of the crowd is deafening and cannot be ignored. Iclose the notepad and doubt it will get used tonight.
I watch Jett like I’m seeinghimfor the first time, completely captivated, as he himself bubbles out of amuchlarger misting cauldron than the one we drank from, one that’s about twenty feet tall, as his grand entrance. He slides down the side and lands on his feet like a black cat on life number nine. The longer Iwatch him, in his leather and mesh fishnet, undulating, swirling, moving across the stage like the fog flowing from the giant pot, the more inspired Iget. Ilook down at the little notepad on my lap and flip it open, but Ican’t help but go back to watching Jett. Iget distracted by how Kennedy is absolutely killing it on the drums with only a few hours of practice, and smile. My sister finally got something right.
Jett, while singing his hitEvermorewith about as much force as a nuclear bomb, begins to stalk around the stage with his prop knife, lurking around his band. He starts picking off his band members one by one. First, he slashes Alex on keys, the fake blood from Kel dripping from his neck, before he pretends to collapse on the stage floor, then Dean on guitar, and Jack on bass. Kennedy is the only one left playing as Jett creeps up from behind him and drags the prop from the hollow of his throat, all the way down his torso, fake blood exploding across his white T-shirt. He tumbles off the drum stand to the stage floor, playing dead with the rest of the band.
The lights go out, and Kel sneaks around in the dark, transforming the band into zombies as quickly as she can. Aspotlight on Jett shows him streaking ‘his bandmates’ blood’ across his face maniacally as he lets out the most goosebump-inducing wail that has the fans screaming and my nerves singing. He starts climbing the cauldron center stage and pretends to scoop a bucket of ‘potion’ before jumping down and running around ‘pouring’ it over each band member. The stage effects flash and boom like thunder and lightning, while sparks erupt from the pyrotechnics stage right and left, the whole arena pulsing with wicked wonder.
His band starts to come back to life as the undead zombies walk back to their instruments, with the crowd screaming in approval. Ilook down, honestly surprised to see my fingers wrapping around the pen. The pen is on the paper and the writing utensil certainly seems possessed. After a few minutes, Ihave the beginning of a concept, my eyes widening, realizing the idea came from me and might actually be usable.What the hell did Ijust come up with and why do Iwanna watch it immediately?
Several up-and-coming bands travel to a remote location to play a music festival, but the event organizer is actually an evil billionaire who’s been triggered into psychosis by the death of his favorite rockstar. So instead of inviting a crowd of music fans, he locks the bands inside the compound and forces them to play what starts off like a pretty innocent battle of the bands. But soon enough, it turns into a fight to the death, and what ensues is a dark comedic horror bloodbath. Heads would be sliced off with cymbals and faces shredded with electric guitars. The final band standing gets injected with the billionaire’s invention, a serum that will let them live forever. Isketch a rough idea of what the billionaire’s creepy mask would look like, and of course, picture Jett wearing it, breaking out in goosebumps from head to toe.
I stare at the paper for several minutes, wondering if it’s just insane enough to actually work. Isnap a picture of it and send it to my manager, asking her to have a beautiful floral arrangement delivered to Mickie with a card that has this idea typed up inside, along with this message from me:
The only thing better than being immortal would be getting to write this crazy ass movie with my best friend. Please consider, and Iwill apologize every day until you’re ready to talk. Ilove you, and Iwouldn’t be where Iam today if it weren’t for you. Ipromise Iwill never take that for granted again. Mads loves Mick forever.
I sigh, realizing Ihad been in a trance and missed two songs. Ifocus on the way Jett moves downstage like he’s crawling through a cemetery after creeping up from his own grave like a zombie on a mission. His voice crackles with effort and elicits desire as he singsDying Love,and now I'm picturing something different entirely. Jett playing the final boy, the last rockstar standing, crawling through the carnage he had to endure, the evil he had to unleash, to win, in order to become immortal.
Kel arrives at my side, and I, in a whisper, praise her for how cool that sequence was and all the work she did to make that happen. She gives me a tight squeeze and then begins to make sure my cleavage is perfect, dusted with holographic powder, my wig is straight, and my thigh holsters have both prop knives secure.
She taps the notepad with questioning eyes, and Ihand it to her with a nod. She starts vibrating halfway through reading it, and by the end, she’s practically jumping up and down, silently fist-bumping the pad in the air.Guess that means she likes it.Igrin.
Quiet in my ear again, she says, “So freakin’ excited, babe! Iwill be with you every step of the way!”
“You always are. Thank you, Kel baby.”
We embrace again, and when she steps back, Ifind two blood capsules in my hand. “Just in case you want to get messy out there.”
I feel for the tiny pocket on my black catsuit shaped like a teeny heart and stash the caps inside. And nowI’mthe one vibrating out of my skin as more songs fly by and we get closer toKill Me Maybe.
“Look at them.” She grins, peeking through the side curtain at my family of zombies in the front row, stage left. “They look like they special-ordered a very particular son-in-law designed by God and the devil, and he’s finally been delivered.”
I snort because that can’t be refuted. “Right? Like, look at Jude, Ihaven’t seen him impressed withanyonewho enters our lives. Inever thought he’d look at someone like that unless Kurt Cobain rose from the dead.”
She snorts and then quickly sobers like the true alternative girl she is, whispering with a little head shake, “Too soon, Maddy.” Inod and hold in a laugh.
When it’s time, she places my glittering Ghostface mask on me and makes sure Ican see. My nerves are jittering from head to toe, and theconfident, badass, rockstar girlfriendmantra comes back into play until I’m ready to go out there. The lights on stage are dim, except now there are two spotlights ready to follow us on our chase. The band starts upKill Me Maybe, and the fans are screaming so loud that Ican’t hear my thoughts. That’sprobably a good thing.
