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“I know, right?!” Cedar mistakes my words as unbelievably entertained instead of just plain fucking shocked.
My breath seizes in my chest when the lead fucking singer of As Above pauses in his part so that the crowd can sing the song back to him as he headbangs to the beat. I stare shellshocked at the screen filled with wildly whipping curly hair, beads of sweat trailing down a crooked nose, and blue-green eyes that sparkle in the limelight. He lifts up straight with a foot braced on a speaker at the front of the stage, the mic still pointed out to the crowd, and grins out over the mob of about a thousand people.
For the second time in my life, my breath leaves my body like I’ve been struck directly in the chest.
“Ohmygod.”
19
REX
“We’ve got some new shit for ya.”
I speak into the wireless mic, my enthusiasm uncontainable as I bounce around the stage. From left to right, I pace and jump and flex for the crowd that screams for As Above.
My brother pounds out a beat for me, background noise he’ll turn into the next song the moment he gets the feel from me that we’re ready. The crowd hums with excitement at my words, a power you can feel radiating from them to us. “We got some new shit,” I repeat as I make my way back to center stage and run a hand through my hair to get it out of the sweat dripping down my face.
“Woo!” Finland encourages into his mic, his strums matching Mac’s beat.
“But let’s talk for a minute.” A roar returns in agreement, so I pause with a grin and place my fists on my hips to drink in the moment.
These are the times where I could say anything, and thousands of people would agree, or cheer for us … I could share my woes and I know someone out there right now wouldunderstand. Hell, maybe their person is in this very crowd. I could make a funny and they’ll laugh as if I made their day.
I know we do sometimes, for a lot of people. Which is part of the reason why I do this.
But when I can relate to thousands of people for just a moment, and all I have to do is be raw … it makes these memories even better.
“So,” I say with the grille of the mic against my lip, and I look around for the stool I know was nearby when we started. I locate it while they wait, still noisy, and drag the thing back to the center for me to plant my ass in it. “I recently went through a thing,” I start, unsure of how much I care to share, but knowing that deep down this is what I’m meant to do.
Share my talent. My heart.
My soul.
A few aww’s are audible through the dampened noise, encouraging the emotions that bubble up in my chest.
“You ever meet someone? And they just …” I pause, my hands doing part of the talking for me, and look out over the faces I can see through the lights through pinched brows. “Change your fucking life?” Thunderous applause responds. My smile fades, still genuine, but haunted. “Well, I met someone.” I look out into the crowd that boo’s and aww’s at once, but the lights blind me. Some scream their undying love for me while others request procreation despite the emotional roller coaster I’m trying to take them on.
Normally, I’d laugh at that, grin at the thought of someone in the crowd prepping to be my baby momma, or baby daddy just for the simple fact that I’m Rex Thompson and I sing some good songs.
But I don’t, not this time.
My hand finds my hair again, pushing the shit back out of my face when it clings to my forehead. “I met someone,” I start,my words accompanied by my pointed index finger. “And she rocked the foundation on which I built my entire life in just one fucking night.”
I jump to my feet and kick the stool back when rage and hurt puff my chest, the thing skidding somewhere behind me.
Mac picks up the beat like my heart rate, Fin falling in sync.
“This song,” I continue, perusing the stage, then stalking about as my need builds up. “This song’s for her. Fuck, this whole damn album’s for her.” My tone is desperate, my grip tight on the mic as my stomach dips, but my chest swells with the need to release myself of this emotion. To share my story with the world.
If I don’t, I might die of heartbreak.
Pure adrenaline spikes when the band fills in the tune and I engage the first verse. I have to shove the earpiece back in when the place gets too loud for me to keep time, the deafening explosion of sound drowning out the tempo enough that not even high-tech shit can keep them out.
Lights flash across the stage, blues and yellows and oranges burst in my eyes, highlighting our performance in time to the beat. The words leave my lips, visions of Aria fill my mind like flashbacks, feelings of hope fill my soul and I swear I can see her on stage right now watching out over me.
Where I wish she was, but she’s not.
The chorus comes in, Fin leads me in on time with his axe, and I leave no part of the stage untouched. I sing to the crowd, to my brothers, to the ceiling about the ache in my chest and the heartbreak of limelight.
