Then his hand dropped, and he turned, glancing down at me. “You okay with that?”
Hearing the gruffness in his voice, my eyes rose to his. I could only nod in response. He went back to the microphone, keeping his back to me, but it was there. I had felt it again. It stung me. The old connection was still between us. Knowing it was there and feeling it for a moment, had my body wired.
I climbed to my seat and picked up my sticks. I was ready to go.
The sticks twirled on my palm, and I held them like that, letting them spin in the air. The song had paused. They were waiting for me, but I still let those sticks go. This was my time to shine. Forget Emerson. This was about music—our music. I was the best, and he was going to be reminded of it. No matter what shit he said about me, he’d keep his mouth shut about this. Drumming was what I did best, and this felt so right. I let the anticipation build. The crowd was waiting. Everyone was waiting. My body was writhing with the tempo. The beat poured through my blood, but I savored it, still holding off, and then, it was time. Everything clicked. The song was perfect now, and I flicked the right stick up with my finger, caught it with my thumb, and slammed it down at the same time.
I didn’t hear the crowd.
I knew their mouths were open. Their arms were flailing, but it wasn’t about them. They were nothing to me. It was about the music. My leg tapped on the bass, and I glanced up, knowing Braden would mold his chord with my beat. He sensed me and instinctually turned. His head bent further down as his fingers played over the strings. He was doing it. There was no contact between us except the music.
Then Emerson joined, and he held his note. My beat continued, pulsating out. It infected everyone. No one was immune, and we raised the climax all the way up.
This was what we did.
This was how we played.
We were a team.
Braden added to the drama, his guitar hitting the higher notes, and Emerson helped build up the tension. We were waiting, all three of us now. We needed one more to join—voice.
Luke was at the front of the stage. His back was turned. His head was bent, and he held the microphone. He was feeling everything, letting the song continue and build. When we were at the right spot, the perfect moment, his head bobbed, and he started to sing.
His voice was clear and smooth. He started with that first note, and the crowd’s energy spiked. I still couldn’t hear them. I closed my eyes and gave over to the music.
I bled into the beat.
We never stopped because I wouldn’t let them. There was a moment’s pause—a brief moment—and at the signal, the next song was launched. We ran the entire set. One perfect unit. I rolled the beat through, matching the adrenaline in my body. It was going to be like this every night now. Knowing that, I relished the feeling, anticipating this ride from now on.
As Luke belted out the words and Emerson switched the bass, Braden hit that haunting note.
This was when the crowd felt us. If they hadn’t by then, it was this moment when a renewed fever spread through them. My blood was buzzing, knowing we held them by the balls. We decided how they felt. We had control like gods. My arms crashed down with more force, and I gritted my teeth, going with the roller coaster inside me.
More than once, Luke found me and took me on a different ride. He felt it, too. All the bullshit was gone. We were a band. Emerson might’ve hated me, but he didn’t when we played together. A connection ran through all of us when we performed. No one went against us, or we’d all fail.
I had missed this. Playing with Braden. Luke. Setting the rhythm.
I never got off the roller coaster, not even at the end of our set. I craved being up there, setting the beat, yielding that power. After an intense set, I retreated to a back corner and recuperated there. The waves crashed over me, and I gulped for air, feeling that buzz in my blood. I wanted to keep it going, so I started for the bar, wanting a drink. Then a hand touched my hip. Luke, I thought. My body instantly molded toward his, and my pulse spiked. Then reality crashed back into place. It was Elijah.
I shoved his hand off. “What are you doing?”
He rolled his eyes, but grabbed my hand and started forward. Eli moved lithely through the crowd. Most knew who he was and moved away so he could pass, but the rest moved on instinct anyway. As we moved inside the guest house Candy said we could use for the night, I started to move around him, but bumped into him and felt something hard inside his jacket. His gaze locked with mine. I caught the warning in his eyes and narrowed mine. “What are you doing here?”
“You weren’t supposed to feel that.”
“What?”
He jerked his head forward. “You should go.”
“We just got done playing our set.” What was in his jacket?
“You should go.”
A message flashed in his eyes. Then it clicked. Something was going to happen. My lips parted again, and feeling a sense of urgency, I grabbed his arm this time. “What is happening? What’s in your jacket?”
“Bri.” Another warning flared over his face. “I mean it, go. I grabbed you and brought you over here for a reason.” His eyes trailed past my shoulder, and I turned.
I didn’t have to look far.
Luke was sitting in a lawn chair.
Eli pushed me forward, a soft touch on the small of my back. He said into my ear, “Go to him and go home. Get Emerson out of here, too.”