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You try and stop me (you can’t stop me)
So, as Priscilla danced onto the stage to the end of the song, and the end of the backing track was nigh, I turned on my heel and ran out of the sound booth and down the stairs towards the backstage area.
I found the three other Brock brothers at the door that led to backstage.
“Luna!” Forest greeted me. “We got here in time to catch the end of Priscilla’s... song. Can you let us in backstage?”
“Hi, yeah, sure.” I keyed in the code and pulled open the door for them, ushering them through before any random members of the public could follow us inside.
Winston frowned, pausing and examining my arms before he passed through the door. “Where did you get those bruises?”
I shut the door behind us, and started leading the way to where we would find Sylvester... or Priscilla.
I glanced at my arms. I’d forgotten the bruises, but I could feel them, freshly sore, now they’d been pointed out to me. “Oh, yeah. I was held hostage by Priscilla while Apollo and then Priscilla stormed the stage. Her security guards have pointy fingers, I guess. I don’t think they all had fake nails as long as hers, though, or I’d have holes in my arms instead of bruises.”
I had everyone’s attention now. Jude looked highly concerned. “Are you okay?”
I smiled around at them. “Weirdly, yes. I don’t know if I’m gonna freak out later when the adrenaline wears off, or if I’m just accustomed to all of this drama by now... but I’m fine.”
“I think she’s in shock.” Winston addressed the other brothers, then turned back to me. “Luna, I’m gonna make sure you’re assessed after we’ve caught up with Sylvester. Unless you’re feeling short of breath or panicky or anything right now...”
“I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Alright. But I’ll be checking over you soon, mark my words. After saying ‘her security guards have pointy fingers’, I’ll be surprised if you don’t have some kind of concussion.”
I had bruises on my arms, not my head, but I took his point. I was a little lightheaded, maybe. Yes, I was definitely overtired. But I didn’t feel anxious or worried. My nerves at all the situations in which I was currently involved had melted away when I had taken to that stage and performed for the cheering crowds as I was supposed to have done years ago.
Even being held hostage by Priscilla hadn’t dulled the shine of my evening. There was still time, of course, for events to unfold even further tonight.
But, even now, I was flying high. Two decades of stress and failure and self-loathing had been expunged from my insides, leaving me feeling fresh and optimistic about the future.
Now, time to face the music.
Sylvester
The crowd, presuming that Priscilla’s song was a bizarre, if planned, appearance, burst into rapturous applaud as her backing track finished and she bowed as if humble, sending air kisses into the crowd. She didn’t have legions of die-hard fans, likeNeedleheaddid, but she was much more of a household name, in part due to her mysterious disappearance.
The internet was probably blowing up right now. I imagined I’d hate to see the state of my phone notifications.
Priscilla, graciously, handed me the microphone she’d commandeered as she swept past me. Her long purple nails grazed the backs of my fingers as the microphone exchanged hands. She smiled at me, that enchanting, alluring smile, as she passed. She was like a poisonous frog – brightly colored and toxic.
I wanted to race after her and confront her, but I had the fans to think of. They’d paid to be here, and they’d certainly gotten their money’s worth as far as drama was concerned, but I had to thank them before we left.
“Wow, what an evening’s entertainment, huh?” The crowd cheered and laughed. “I think that’s enough excitement for one evening, so we’ll be leaving it there. But, er, Reed, is it safe to say that people will be hearing more from us in the future?” I handed the microphone to Reed.
Reed smirked and accepted the microphone. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say that, Sylvester. Old pal.”
The crowd erupted into screaming applause once more. Though they’d all hated me for splitting up the band, I’d be forgiven if we got back together to release more music. Or at least, I hoped so.
I glanced at Mark and Petey, who nodded, and so I tipped my head at Reed, set the mic down on the floor, and we all left the stage together as a band, to the continuous cheers and foot-stamping and clapping of the somewhat bewildered, but still excited, crowd.
In the hallway outside, I was almost bowled over by the onslaught of my three brothers speed-walking in our direction, led by Luna, who was weirdly grinning.
“Oh hello, Jude, Forest, Winston. Did any of you see where Priscilla went?”
The gang of them stopped pacing and shook their heads.
Then a voice trilled out from the green room. “Oh boys!”
