At the end of Brian’s intro, Sed raced across the stage, his low growl increasing in volume until it broke into a loud battle cry. The crowd screamed when the lights suddenly went bright and they recognized he’d entered the stage. God, he loved these people. All fifteen thousand of them.
Sed sang with his usual enthusiasm, stalking from one end of the stage to the other, raising his hands to encourage the crowd to participate. All the while, the music playing in his ear sounded off. Not terrible, just sort of weak. He glanced at Trey, who’d already broken into a sweat. Not normal for him. He usually rocked on his heels and strummed each chord with gusto. Tonight he had a hard time keeping up.
Shit. Shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. Sed knew he was responsible for this entire fiasco. He’d made Trey feel guilty and uncertain of his place in the band. Sed had just been trying to encourage him, not force him into taking a step he wasn’t ready to take. But they had a show to finish. He hoped Trey could hang in there for nine more songs. No one expected him to be as good as he usually was. Just there. Singing his occasional back up vocal. Strumming chords the best he could.
Brian finished his solo, and the segment where Trey usually accompanied him sounded entirely hollow. Sed glanced across the stage to see Trey staring at his hands as if they were on fire. Brian noticed as well. He quickly made his way from stage left to stage right and talked to Trey out of hearing range of the microphone. Trey shook his head. Brian said something else and Trey nodded. Trey pulled a guitar pick off the tape on his microphone stand and picked up on the series of chords that made up the majority of the rhythm guitar section. He managed to play it consistently until the end.
“How are we doing tonight, Salt Lake City?” Sed called into his microphone. He held the mic toward the crowd and put his hand to his ear.
The crowd responded with loud cheers.
“Are you ready to get crazy?”
More cheers. He glanced at Trey, who liked to talk to the crowd. He and Brian were in deep conversation near the drum kit. Trey looked upset. Brian, ever Trey’s rock, just kept talking him down.
“As you’ve probably heard, we’ve had to cancel ten shows over the past few weeks, but Sinners is back to rock Salt Lake. How do you all feel about that?”
More cheers.
“Hey, Trey, why don’t you come say something to the fans? I think they’ve been worried about you.”
Trey gave him a scathing look and stepped up to the microphone. “Hey.”
The roar from the crowd was deafening.
“He’s still not back to his usual bad-ass self, but he said he couldn’t stand to miss another show. Is that what you said, Trey?”
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
Brian wrapped an arm around Trey’s shoulders and spoke into the microphone. “He’s feeling kind of slow these days. I think they sucked half his brain out through this hole in his head.” Brian pointed to the ugly scar that ran a semi-circle around the side of his head. At least the staples were gone now.
Trey didn’t respond to the barb. Yeah, something wasn’t right. Best leave him alone. They might as well continue and get this over with.
“You know what I think?” Sed said into the mic. “I think it’s time to climb the gates of hell.”
Brian raced to his side of the stage to stomp a foot pedal that changed his amplifier settings. Eric tapped on a cymbal behind them. The intro to “Gates of Hell” was insane, and while Brian performed with his usual spectacular flare, Trey missed an entire progression and his guitar fell silent. There was a horrifically loud bang followed by screeching feedback in Sed’s ear. Sed winced, covering his earpiece with one hand. He turned to see Trey stalk offstage. Trey’s favorite guitar lay in pieces in the middle of the stage, its neck snapped near the yellow and black body.
Brian stopped playing and ran after him. Sed turned his attention back to the crowd. “We’ll be right back, folks. Don’t go anywhere.” He handed his mic to Jace as he headed after the two guitarists. “Entertain the crowd until I get back.”
Jace did a very good impression of a fish out of water, but Sed didn’t have time to worry about Jace’s ability to speak to the crowd. Trey had just trashed a $6,000 guitar and stormed offstage. Things were not boding well for their comeback show.
Brian had Trey by the shoulders backstage.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Brian said. “We’ll just call off the show—”
“We’re not calling off the show,” Sed said.
Trey turned his attention to Sed. “You heard me out there. I can’t play.”
“You were doing fine.”
“Were you listening at all? I sound like shit.”
“Brian can take up some of your slack. Just do the best you can. And get back onstage.” When Trey didn’t move, Sed added, “Now.” Pointing toward the audience.
“I’m not going back,” he said. “I can’t even hold on to my fucking pick.”
“You said you were ready for this, so get back out there and play some music. I really don’t care how much you suck.”
“Sed,” Brian protested.
“What? Are you going to baby him some more? He needs to man up and do his best. If you keep letting him get away with this crap, he’s never going to get better.”
“Hello, I’m standing right here,” Trey said. “I can hear everything you’re saying.”
Sed looked at Trey. “Am I right?”
Trey dropped his gaze. “I just need more time to get stronger.”
“We all tried to tell you that, but you wouldn’t listen. You made your choice and now you’re going to stick to it, even if I have to drag you kicking and screaming back onstage.”
“Trey you don’t have to do this,” Brian said. “Honestly, the fans will understand if we send them home.”
“You couldn’t be more wrong, Sinclair,” Sed said. “I’m going back out there now. Even if it means singing a cappella into a megaphone.”
Sed turned and stalked back toward the stage. He found Jace standing center stage, his face the color of cranberries, telling knock-knock jokes. Surprisingly, the crowd seemed to be enjoying his extreme discomfort. Especially the young women, who were practically swooning over his uncharacteristic interaction.
“Knock knock,” Jace whispered into the mic.
“Who’s there?” the crowd yelled.
Jace noticed Sed crossing the stage. “Oh thank God, Sed’s back.” Jace passed Sed the microphone and made a beeline toward the drum kit to hide.
“Oh thank God, Sed’s back who?” the crowd yelled.
“Oh thank God, Sed’s back to kick this show into high gear. Are you people ready to rock?”
The crowd yelled.
“Sorry about that unscheduled break, folks. Trey thinks he sucks too much to play for you wonderful people. If you agree, stay quiet, but if you think he should get his severely injured self out here and do the best he can, you should let him know it.”
Eric started a repetitive beat on the bass drum and the crowd rose up to the challenge. “Mills, Mills, Mills,” they chanted.
Within a minute, Brian came back onstage, followed by Trey, who looked incredibly sheepish. Trey stepped up to his microphone stand. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve such great fans, but I’ll try to get through this, if you pretend you can’t hear all those triplets I can’t finger.”
“You can finger me, Trey!” some chick screamed in the audience.
Trey laughed. “I probably wouldn’t be very good at that either, honey, but I’d be more than happy to give it a go.”
Sed grinned. There’s Trey. He was wondering where he’d wandered off to.
Trey continued, “Also, I sorta demolished my favorite guitar, so even if I could play, nothing would sound right.”