Beat of the Heart by Katie Ashley
To the Ladies of the Ledge: Marilyn Medina, Marion Archer, Cris Hadarly, Michelle Eck, Kim Bias, Lisa Kane, and Karen Lawson Without these fabulous women, dear readers, you would not receive my books. They have supported me by holding my hand during the blood, sweat, and tears of the writing process as well as talking me down from the ledge we crazy writers put ourselves out on. Most of all, their keen eyes have helped to make my books the best they can be through editing, revising, and brainstorming.
“You and I travel to the beat of a different drum. Oh, can't you tell by the way I run every time you make eyes at me?”—Mike Nesmith “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain”—Bob Marley “If music be the food of love, play on”—William Shakespeare
With my foot pumping steady on the bass drum, my arms flew in a frenzied flourish over the toms and cymbals, sending a deafening thunder throughout the auditorium. As stinging sweat threatened to blind my eyes, I quickly swiped my arm across my forehead and then focused on the song’s encore and my third solo of the evening. Jake and Brayden’s echoing harmonies had ended only moments before, and now it was a battle between the metal and drums on our most hardcore song to date, Ride the Pale Horse. Their guitars screeched to a halt, and then it was me, and only me, pounding out the rhythm. As the house lights flickered in a mosaic of colors, I felt the beat echoing deep within my chest. Although I loved any excuse to show off, I knew the importance of solos to my band mates—we were only as good as our last show or our last album. Even though I was in a stadium with twenty thousand people, moments like these always took me back to when I was a kid and was learning how to master the drums from my Tio Diego.
Just as I finished the last beat of the crescendo, everything went black in the auditorium. It took only a millisecond for the audience’s approval to begin as a resounding roar. For a full minute, we remained in the pitch black until the house lights slowly came back up. As I took off my headset, whistles, cat-calls, and applause stung my ears. I rose off my stool and made my way out of the drum set to join the guys at the front of the stage. During the blackout, roadies had taken Jake, Brayden, and Rhys’s guitars. I, on the other hand, stood twirling one of my drumsticks between my fingers.
Standing toe to toe with each other, we waved to the crowd before doing a united bow. Jake passed each of us the microphone so we could say our individual goodbyes. Once Brayden returned it to him, Jake grinned. “Good night, Oklahoma City! Keep it rockin’ til next time!” he bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the auditorium. With a final wave, we started jogging off the stage. When I got to the edge, I turned back. I kissed each of my sticks before chucking them out into the crowd. It was a wonder, after all the times of doing it, I hadn’t managed to poke someone’s eye out or inflict some other heinous injury with them. The potential liability and lawsuits were something that ‘legal-eagle’, Rhys, loved to remind me of constantly.