I turn toward him, my expression serious. “I don’t want you to be anything for me. I want you to just be you.”
Tugging at a curl brushing my shoulder, he lifts his head. “Sometimes I’m not sure who I am.” He kisses me so softly I lean forward, hoping for another touch of his lips. “Except when I’m with you, pretty Allie.” Our mouths are so close his words are a light breeze on my skin. He blows gently on my lips. “Be with me?”
My fingers dig into the skin of his ribs as I scoot closer to him. “Can’t seem to help myself.”
He chuckles deep in his chest. “Quiche for lunch?”
I lean down to give his pierced nipple a wet kiss and his pectoral jumps. “Yes, definitely—later though.” I give the ring a soft jerk with my teeth.
“Maybe not even later.” He groans. “Food can wait. Exam week too.”
Chapter 25
Justin
All four of us are crowded into a small room to the left of the stage as the stagehands finish the sound checks. Sam is bouncing up and down. Idiot likes to wind himself up before going out. Romeo is going over sheet music with Gabe one last time. He’s become Gabe’s mentor over the past couple of months, and once the stubborn prick stopped resenting being told what to do, his drumming improved immediately. Not that he sucked, but he wasn’t anywhere near our first drummer, and not even in the same galaxy as Riley.
Except for Gabe, who’s new, playing live has become almost easy for the band over the past two years. We roll through gigs onstage effortlessly. That’s why we do things like adding songs with violins, or me finally learning guitar. Shit can get boring without a challenge. Can’t say the studio stuff is easy. I’m not looking forward to our final session next weekend.
But outside of the band, life has become something to grasp with both hands and hold on to. Instead of or searching for what I can take, I want to give. Give everything to my girl. Take away her worries; erase the little crease that sometimes etches her forehead. And make her as happy as she makes me.
But Allie’s life is full. She’s got her son, her business, and school too. I don’t like it, but I accept the crumbs of time she can give. We talk over the phone late at night about art and music and Ben. We send each other dirty texts. We squeeze in visits when we can. Even though I did some studying for exams over the past week, I found time to stop by the shop to visit her twice. Between the slices of her life, we are building a relationship, something I never imagined wanting so badly, but with Allie I want everything.
That she’ll be here at our show tonight has me feeling pumped. She’s coming after work, halfway through, and I know once she shows up I won’t even notice the rest of the audience.
Some guy with stringy long hair stops by to tell us the stage is ready. Romeo reminds him to make sure the lights are turned low. Romeo has a thing for theatrics, likes to open with a boom.
Once the lights are low, we file out and take our places. A hush pervades the crowd in the sudden darkness. We wait about half a minute to let the anticipation build, then Gabe hits his sticks and Romeo cranks out a screeching riff. The lights come on. The crowd roars. Energy fills me. Romeo hits a hard synthetic-sounding riff then makes his guitar screech again. I move my head to the beat, throw out an arm at the third screech, step to the microphone, and sing into the fourth screech.
The crowd’s energy rises as I start singing.
Standing in front of the microphone, I move to the music and sing in a low, crooning voice. When we hit the chorus, I release the mic and let loose, bending and shouting the chorus.
“Chalk Outline” by Three Days Grace is a dynamic song. It mixes low, raspy singing with a forceful shout in the chorus. The lyrics describe a man’s anger after being dumped. I’ve never really understood the meaning until now. If Allie left me, I’d be a mess. My newfound knowledge lends more emotion to my singing, and I can tell from Sam’s and Romeo’s glances that this is definitely the best I’ve ever sung this song.
During the instrumental, I sway next to Sam and give Romeo the spotlight, then go back to the edge of the stage, belting out the chorus and bending over the crowd.
Once the song is over, I shout into the microphone, “You guys ready for some rock ’n’ roll?” The crowd roars at me. “Let’s see how you like our new original, ‘Bleak Moon’!”
Gabe rolls out a drum fill, Sam gives us a baseline, and Romeo joins in with a booming riff. I open with a fast vocal. The crowd beyond the stage moves in one huge, surging wave. I’m immediately high on the adrenaline of the masses.
We roll through two originals and five more cover songs. During the last song prior to our break, I fist bump half of the people standing in front of the stage—and by the time we finish it, the crowd is in a frenzy.
I leave the stage for our break reluctantly. If it were up to me, we’d keep playing. But we don’t have a choice because for the second set we’re doing acoustic. The stage needs to be changed over. I’m not big on the acoustic crap like Romeo. Given the choice I’d take blaring guitars every time. But other than a few trips to the Detroit area, we only play at about six different clubs and bars in the area, most of them at least twice a year. Though I hate admitting it, even internally, Romeo’s right. We have to mix it up or we’ll get old.
In the tight hallway behind the stage, Romeo is again mentoring Gabe. Sam has disappeared. He’d better not be off sucking shit up his nose. Partying is one thing, doing it while we’re performing is a completely different scenario that would cross the line even with me.
The waitress who brought me a beer is trying to talk to me, asking if I want something else. A shot? Or…? I glance at her and almost laugh. There was a time, not so long ago, when her casual invitation would have had my brain running in all kinds of directions. The girl is attractive, dressed in tight shorts and a tight T-shirt with the bar’s logo. Her short hair is spiked, and the thick chain around her neck would have gained my interest in the past, but not anymore. I’ve got nothing to say to her and zero interest. And strangely, I’m even kind of shocked at who I was less than two months ago. That I would have been considering the possibility of going home with this girl now seems kind of skeevy. What was wrong with me? And why would girls let me use them like that? After being with Allie, the whole thing feels empty and heartless.
I lift my beer. “Thanks, but I’m set with this.”
Her lips push together as she obviously thinks of some other way to make an offer.
“Really, I’m good.”
“Sure you don’t want another beer at least?” she asks, trying to save face.
I shake my head. “Got to sing. Acoustic. Easy to mess up,” I add with a grin.
She grins back, then goes and asks Gabe and Romeo about a beer. Romeo declines. Gabe accepts.
Leaning against the wall, I finish my beer and reach for my new acoustic guitar. This acoustic shit does rattle my nerves. I’ve been playing for only about four months. Four months is not enough to feel invincible onstage. But then, the nervousness adds to my energy high, and that’s my addiction.
As I strap on the guitar, the stagehand with long hair tells us the stage is switched over and ready. Romeo goes over the lighting with him again, and Sam finally comes back—and the four of us head out to start the set.
The crowd goes wild when they see us. There’s one stool in the middle of the stage. For my lame ass. Still new to playing, I like to sit if possible. Romeo and Sam go stand at their microphones. Romeo is holding a mandolin. Sam is playing his electric bass for this one. Gabe sits in the back with a tambourine and access to the bass drum.