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“Who said anything about love?”
The crowd started clapping as Decker finished up his speech.
“Ahh, we’re still in phase one. Well, I’ve got the whiskey when you need it.” Oz looped his bass strap over his head and headed out onto the stage before I could tell him he was crazy.
The house lights went down and I moved out of the way for our tech crew. I wasn’t in love with her. I just…
Nope. I so wasn’t going there right now.
I climbed on my drum riser. The stage was too small for my full kit, but all I needed was something to smash. I could make anything work.
We opened with “Judgment”, which let me rip into my skins. Frustration was so close to the surface right now that my shoulders sang with the fierce power I threw into my sticks. Lindsey glanced back at me. A cue that I was playing too loud and too hard for the venue, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed more pain to push everything down.
I was not in love with her.
Somehow, I resisted watching her. Proving that she wasn’t the center of my universe was my only focus for tonight. Instead of searching for the bright flash of her hair, I looked out into the crowd.
This was all for the fans. They were the ones who mattered most.
One song blended into another until a fine sheen of sweat gathered over my shoulders and between my shoulder blades.
By the fourth song, I’d lost my T-shirt and Jamie had climbed up behind me.
“You’re on fire tonight,” she said before lengthening her guitar solo during “Ruin”.
I stood behind my kit as we swayed together. Her fingers were relentless on the frets. She climbed up with both her fingers, lengthening notes. I didn’t know how she did it, but she made the crowd of the rich and famous happily embrace their rock side.
I saw an actress with her arms up, rock on fingers high and proud. One of the guys on her sitcom lifted her to get a better view.
Here and there, I noticed other celebrity types mixed in with a few fan club members who had paid good money to attend. All of them were enjoying the hell out of our show.
The way it should be.
Then I spotted the massive shoulders of Deacon McCoy and his wife along the back. I didn’t know them well, but it was a surprise to see them—especially with all that had been going on lately. But his wife, Harper, seemed to be in work clothes, so maybe she was doing the food for the shindig.
Tables were set along the back of the club with meals and intense floral centerpieces. I had damn good vision, but it seemed way more than a rock concert merited. However, most of the tables had been deserted once we started the show.
People crushed the front of the stage. Sparkly gowns and suits—hell, even some tuxedos—were no match for the music-loving crew in the club. I glanced up at the balcony section to find our big boss up there. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually seen him at a show.
His arms were crossed as he leaned against the rail, his finger tapping along his forearm.
What a fucking crazy night.
“We’re going to slow it down for a few minutes.” Lindsey’s husky voice curled through the venue. “I’m afraid to actually stop.” She laughed then threw back her miles of curls. “I don’t think I’ve had this kind of energy even in a sold out arena. You guys are amazing.”
I’d say she was laying it on thick, but there was no denying the intensity of the crowd tonight. Maybe some of it was just us excited to play again. To feel normal instead of like caged animals,
Or maybe that was just me.
My gaze drifted to Teagan. I’d managed to hold off for a damn long time, but she was like my north star in a show. It should be Lindsey, it should be Oz’s bass—anything but her. And yet every show, my energy mirrored Teagan’s.
If she was off, I acted the fool to get her to laugh and get back into the groove.
If she was on fire, I fed off of it.
Chump.
Ugh. I was a fucking chump.
