Page 2 of Rock Me

I can’t help the smile twitching at the corners of my mouth as I hear the crowd stomp along, their cheers filling in all the pockets of silence that was just blanketing us all.

A second cello joins me for the second stanza.

“You beautiful bitch, Sebastian,” I think, as my I picture my bandmate’s fingers going into overdrive over the fingerplate.

It replaces my line and I jump a third below, drawing the harmony out from the strings with my bow, having a play with the arrangement.

Never the same, it’s never the fucking same.

Just the way we like it.

I’ll never get tired of how our cellos fit like perfectly laid out pieces of a music puzzle.

I count the bars in my head, two more until the chorus.

There’s suddenly the taste of metal in my mouth, blood, my teeth digging hard into my lip without me realizing it. Out of pure anticipation.

I’ve been waiting for this moment a fucking long time.

We’ve been saving this for a special performance, and this is it.

The chorus.

The single spotlight surrounding me suddenly blasts into a thousand, splintered light dancing over every inch of the stage, the crowd, the walls, the ceiling, and every fucking voice in the place raises in unison, in song. “WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!”

“Sing iiiiiiittt,” I yell into the microphone, my voice echoing off the walls.

And they obey, as the rest of my band joins in with their violin and viola, rocking out every chord as Queen intended.

“What are we gonna do?” I hear Sebastian scream into his mic, and right on time, the crown joins in again, “WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!!”

My fingers burn as they move over the cello, each note ingrained in their cells from hours of practice, as my other arm moves the bow back and forth, the torn blonde horse hairs whipping back and forth, shining like spun gold against the light. The sound fills me from the floor up, the vibrations from the sound system like heart beats against my shoes.

Giving me life.

There’s a break in the cello part, the perfect moment to make my move. Sebastian glances over to me and I flash him a grin and he nods and gives me a wink.

It’s on. The solo is mine. We never really know who’s going to take it until we’re on stage. Solo performance is more than planning. It’s destined. You don’t know your number is up until you’re standing on stage and it calls to you.

I step forward and take my place center stage, tip my head back, taking it all in, and lose myself in the chaos.

I was born for this.

I would die for this.