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Epilogue
JADE
Eighteen Years Later
Teenage girls screaming and chanting at the top of their lungs, has to be one of the methods of torture banned by the Geneva convention. Damn these bitches have lungs on them. I look over at Sebastian, who’s standing there proud as punch like he is at every single one of these shows. He looks up at the stage in awe, waiting for an angel to magically land on it or some shit. I may not be a deer in headlights watching the empty stage with worship, but I definitely understand what he is feeling. Pride and fucking joy. Our baby is a damn rockstar! How many people can say that shit? He worked his ass off since he was three years old, learning to play every instrument known to man, not to mention being blessed with the voice of an angel isn’t so bad either.
I’ll never forget the day he came home, the month before senior year started, and told us he was switching to online learning and going on tour. As responsible parents, our first reaction was questioning what the fuck he thought he was doing. Then about five minutes into our mandatory, and well-deserved parent rant - we’ve got really good at those having to yell at twins for the past eighteen years, this whole parent shit, we got this - we realized he knew exactly what he was doing.
Onyx was never the little boy pretending to be a firefighter or police officer. No, my little man spent his days dressing up like rockers, rappers, and pop stars - lord help us, that Timberlake phase was the longest three months of my life. He had regular performances throughout the day at home - the morning show, the pre-dinner show, and an after-dinner show. This kid had an entire set list ready to go at the drop of a hat by age nine. We weren’t surprised when he showed an interest in music or when we noticed his talent for singing and playing instruments, with little to no instruction. His daddy was just the same, the only difference was he was allowed to follow through with his dreams. When my kids showed interest in anything Bass was always right there going full throttle into any hobby or activity. Girl Scouts, ballet, piano lessons, guitar lessons, even that time Onyx wanted to learn the damn cello. Bass thrived on being their biggest supporter when it came to the things they wanted out of life. He never wanted to treat his children's aspirations like his father treated his. Stephan Silver forbade him to pursue music and I knew as soon as we started to come down on Onyx about his choice, he would fold like a deck of cars. My savage monster has gone soft.
“Dammit Onyx, you better make sure this is what you really want, because we really need to ensure we are doing this the right way.”
“What do you mean “we” dad?” Onyx said, half expecting him to continue ranting at him.
“Damn straight “we” Your mom and I will be there every step of the way. Just make sure you're not getting fucked on this contract.” Bass reassured him he was done standing in his way and bitching at him. “Baby, can you call the lawyer and tell him I'm going to send over some paperwork to look at for Mr. Rockstar over here?”
“On it, Cupcake.”
After that day, exactly one year ago, shit went at lightning speed for our boy. Looking up at him now on stage every other night is so crazy.
He finally takes the stage, the crowd is losing their ever-loving shit, calling for Onyx James at record volume. We have bitches on our left flashing him, while the ones on the right throw their underwear towards the stage. What the fuck is this? Even at eighteen, I wouldn't have flashed my tits or thrown my underwear at anyone, no matter who was up on that stage.
Actually that’s a fucking lie because if Bass were a hot ass rocker, I’d probably carry extra thongs in my purse just to throw at him in hopes he’d later tie me up with them. This is my freaking child though. These bitches need to muzzle up and control themselves, before momma wolf does it for them.
Once Onyx makes his way to the mic, I notice he isn’t following his usual pre-show routine. His entrance was all wrong, not to mention the music isn't playing. He doesn't even have his beloved guitar strapped to him. What is going on right now?
I don’t have time to think of an answer before he’s calming the crowd like he’s trying to make an announcement.
“Hey everybody! How are ya doing tonight?” he asks once he has their attention. Of course the crowd answers him with roaring screams. Onyx laughs it off, such a beautiful smile, “Well, I don't know if you've noticed or not, but this isn't my usual start. That’s because from now until the end of the tour, I’m going to be doing things a little differently.” He cues someone off stage to come forward and join him.
I eagerly watch, not understanding what he’s up to. I know we mentioned we weren’t going to be able to make it to this show, though last minute we had a change of plans. “From now on we are going to start the show together. Some of you may recognize her, but let me introduce you to my fiancé...”
As the words come out of his mouth three things happen in a domino effect. First off, the crowd loses it again, chanting louder than ever before. Secondly, my son goes to the wings and reappears carrying his fiancé apparently, and third, I’m almost positive beside me, Bass’s face is stuck from smiling so fucking hard.
I can’t even believe this.
My baby is engaged.
My baby is a rockstar.
My baby is going to get his ass whooped for announcing his engagement to his MOTHER this way!
Onyx James, you are a dead man.
