No one but you,said that little voice in my head again.
Placing my palms on Elly’s and Liam’s shoulders, I looked at Mason. “We got this. We’re not changing the set list because Bleeding Moonlight showed up halfway through our show. Hell to the fucking no. Pretend they’re not there. There are over a hundred other people that we’re performing for.” They made me sweat for a few moments before finally nodding in agreement.
Liam let out a long breath. “You’re right, Ade. Let’s do this.”
Despite putting on a confident face for the guys, my insides were roiling. Everything I’d told them was true, but the thought of playing lead guitar in front of the dudes who’d written “The Thing About You” was more than a little mortifying.
When Elly, Liam, and Mason walked out onstage before me, I covered my face with my palms and took a deep breath.Just stop thinking. Cut that shit off and be in the moment.
I saw them as soon as I walked up to my guitar. Four guys in total, with the Viking dude from the picture Molly had shown me towering above the rest. Beside him was a long-haired blond that I recognized as the lead singer. They were constantly moving, blocked by people coming up to chat to them, so I couldn’t get a good view of their faces.
Stop it.
Right. I was here to perform, and I needed to get the audience’s attention away from these spotlight hogs and back onto my band. I motioned to the soundcheck guy that we were ready, and he lowered the punk rock music.
“How you all doing?” I shouted into the crowd. “Ready for some more music?”
The crowd let out scattered whoops and cheers, quieter than before. From my vantage point up onstage, I could see just how many people were craning their necks to look at the newly arrived celebrities.
Nah, this wasn’t gonna fly. I riffed on my guitar, drawing more attention. “I said, are ya’ll ready for more?”
The response was louder this time. I grinned at the audience. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw the members of Bleeding Moonlight turning to face the stage. “That’s what I like to hear. We’re Through Azure Skies and this is ‘New Fang.’”
We jumped right into our heavier version of the song by Them Crooked Vultures. I loved playing and singing this one, and halfway through, I was nearly back to the high I’d had before. Performing was my drug of choice. There were few things in life that made me feel this alive.
I moved across the small stage with confidence, my shoulders back, and my head up high. In the first hour, I’d tried to conserve my energy, but now I could really leave it all on the stage. If I collapsed at the end of our set, that was fine by me. As long as we left people saying we’d put on a good show.
We finished the song to decent applause and jumped right into the next one. As we played the intro, my gaze caught on the four guys down on the left. Their attention was fixed on the stage. They were all… stunning. The Viking was looking directly at me, his deep-set, hooded eyes appraising as he took me in. Was he assessing my playing? Fuck. I averted my gaze, moving up to the mic for the vocal part.
I didn’t glance in their direction again, not when that one look had been nearly enough to throw me off. I wasn’t starstruck, not when I hadn’t thought about them in years until last night, but at one point in my life, their music had meant something to me, and that kind of shit stayed deep in your bones.
Halfway through, I paused for a moment to peel off the leather jacket that was sticking to me like second skin. I was working up a real sweat by jumping around and moving non-stop.
When I turned back to the mic, I smiled at the crowd. “We’ve got Mason on the drums. Liam on guitar. Elly on bass,” I said, pausing between each introduction for the crowd to respond. “And I am Adeline. I hope you’re enjoying your night.”
Loud whistles and whoops came from the left, drawing my attention. The other guy from the photo, the shorter one with brown hair, was giving me a panty-melting grin, clapping above his head. His wild curls were whipping around his head, reminding me of my own. When he saw me looking at him, he wiggled his brows. I tore my eyes away, ignoring the way my pulse sped up, and jumped into the next track.
When we were halfway through the song that came before the Bleeding Moonlight cover, and while Liam did his solo, I racked my brain for what to say. Should I intro the song? What the fuck should I say? If I didn’t say anything, would that be even more awkward? Like an elephant in the room. But how was I supposed to introduce it? Do I acknowledge they were right fucking here?
I bit my lip as I strummed my guitar. A moment later, the answer came to me. I’d stick to the plan. When the time came, I gripped the mic, letting the guitar hang off my shoulder by the strap.
“We got three more songs for you. This next one was one of my favorites growing up.”
Mason started pounding the drums. Seconds later, Liam and Elly joined in, and the aggressive melody filled up the barn like it was a balloon.
I didn’t look for their reaction. The guitar strings were buttery under my fingers as I launched into the melody. I headbanged in time with the beat until it was my turn to sing the chorus.
This song built up to a crescendo, and I let myself get swept away by it. My fingers danced across the strings, the movement pure instinct and muscle memory, and I closed my eyes as the solo began.
I loved performing, being up onstage, singing and jamming, but playing lead in front of all these people was like ascending into the clouds. As I shredded through the solo, this feeling of being outside of my body spread through me, and I swear I could see myself from some vantage point above. It was fucking spiritual.
The solo slammed to an end, and I crashed back to reality. The crowd was going wild, and in that moment, I knew we were right to stick to our original plan. The final chorus was all me on the vocals, and as I sang the last few lines, I couldn’t resist the urge to look at the guys we were playing tribute to.
I saw three grins, three heads bobbing up and down, their fists raised in devil horns. The Viking was headbanging like a mad man, his luscious hair billowing through the air like a flame. But where was the lead singer? He wasn’t standing beside the others. I scanned the crowd and spotted him leaning against the bar, a beer in his hand. He was staring at me, a fierce expression on his face. He looked pissed.
The song ended, and the crowd roared in delight, but a cold sensation spread through me. Why was he looking at me like that? Had my playing sucked?
Nah, he was the only one who wasn’t clapping. Was I really going to let one guy ruin this for me?
