Angel perks up at this and rolls on his side to look at Zach. “Is that the one you were writing yesterday? Something something ‘I’d throw you to the wolves but you’re too gross for them to eat’?”
“It’s ‘the rot in your soul might’ve spread to your flesh,’ but yes, actually.”
“Aww, Mom got a song written for her before I did?” I blow away a strand of hair that lands on my face. “Where’s the romance?”
Zach hesitates, all innocence. “I … did you want a song?”
My heart swells. How anyone can be so freaking sweet and eager to please, I’ll never know.
“Do it.” Jon laughs. “You guys are just sappy enough Dad might let it appear on the next album.” Then, he launches into Zach’s part in “Unsaid.” “You’re the explosion that tore me apart, and I’m sorry to say that you’ve reclaimed my heart—” He glances at Angel and gestures for him to join in. “Ruben,” they sing together in perfect harmony, in place of the word “baby.”
Zach looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up.
“Personally, I like the wolves song,” I say. “We should petition for it.”
“If that song gets on the next album, then they have to use my song, too,” Angel says, dragging himself to sit upright with his legs crossed.
“You wrote a song?” Zach asks, his tone half interested, half wary.
“Yeah, this morning.” Angel clears his throat. “A lady from South Carolina, shoved garlic up her vagina. She claimed it was natural—”
“And you’re done,” Penny says quickly, tapping me on the shoulder to vacate her chair. “Angel, you’re up.”
Angel glares at her as he rolls off the bed. “Rude.”
“Keep working on it,” Zach says drily, going back to his notebook as I sit on the floor beside him. “Sounds like it has real potential.”
“Some people,” Angel says in a wounded voice as he lowers himself gingerly into the chair, “just don’t appreciate the avant-garde.”
* * *
I think I’m a little exhausted.
I think maybe we all are.
It’s not that the energy of this concert is horrible, per se. More that the vibe backstage was flat. I guess it’s not that surprising, considering how long it’s been since we had a break, but I have to admit I’m grateful that next week we’re mixing it up a little. No live shows for almost a week while we film the music video for “Overdrive.” It’ll still be work, but it’s a change from the robotic monotony of promo, show, hotel room, repeat.
All we need to do is get through a few more shows, tonight included.
So, I force a spring into my step as I sing the same lyrics, with the easy-to-hit notes. I dance the same steps. Look out into the same faceless crowd. Read the same posters (I LOVE YOU RUBEN. ZACH KNIGHT, BE MINE FOR THE NIGHT. ANJON!). Squint against the same light display, and breathe in the same stage smoke at the same moment I do every night. Beat by beat, planned down to the millisecond.
Then we move onto “Unsaid,” and I return to my body. Jon wiggles his eyebrows at me at the start of the song, and I can’t fight a grin. Sure, the song has nothing to do with Zach and me, but now it kind of feels like our song.
Suddenly, the flashing lights and colors lose their luster. I wish to my bones, to my core, for the freedom we deserve. To be able to talk to the crowd about things that haven’t been preapproved. To share this story with them, a tender little moment between our group, and the newfound significance of the song we just sang to them. To tell them about Zach and me. To hear them scream, and cheer, and let them into our real lives, so they can love us, and celebrate with us, not the curated images of us we’re forced to put on display.
I’m tired of being in so deep we can’t even call it false advertisement anymore, because what they see is what they get.
I’m half gone.
“Unsaid” is a particularly choreo-heavy song, so I can’t dwell on this for too long before I’m throwing myself into the music, spinning and stepping and ducking and turning in time. But the steps bring me over to Zach when his part comes up, and I can’t help but stare at him as he sings.
“You’re the explosion that tore me apart,” he starts in his gritty, strong voice, staring straight into the audience without noticing me, “and I’m sorry to say that you’ve reclaimed my heart…”
Then—hah—his eyes flicker sideways to me. “Baby,” he finishes, eyes sparkling as he bursts into a toothy smile. I return it and let out a delighted, choked laugh. He purses his lips in an attempt to kill his smile, but it’s no use—sunlight is practically streaming out from him. We’re so busy looking at each other we almost, almost, miss our cue to return to the choreo. But we don’t miss it. The song goes just as it does every night, but tonight it feels different, because on top of the lights and the crowd and the moves and the smoke and songs and the steps is Zach’s smile, and the way his eyes locked onto me, and saw me above all the noise.
I have a giddy smile on my face, and a giggle threatening to burst from my lips, for the next few songs. And it feels good.
So, I’m caught off-guard when we pour off the stage at the end of the night to find Erin and Valeria waiting for us with stern expressions. It’s almost like I can feel the band shrinking into ourselves as we try to figure out what we did wrong, and who they’re mad at.
Erin makes eye contact with me first, and that answers that question. Lucky me. “Walk and talk,” Erin orders, and we move, with me falling into step beside her. Zach appears at my shoulder immediately, and though he doesn’t touch me while people can still see us, his elbow bumps against mine and I’m pretty sure it’s not an accident.
“What was so funny?” Erin asks without looking at me.
For a split second, she’s Mom, and I’m several years younger, trapped in the car beside her while she gears up to scream at me about my behavior that day. But she’s not Mom, and I don’t need to panic, because this is business, and we’re all professionals, and it’s just professional feedback.