Rocked Up

Heart pounding against my chest.

Stomach swirling.

Breath hitched in my throat.

This is it.

Then the crowd roars, a crescendo that climbs higher and higher and I feel like my soul is being lifted up on a wave.

Brad is on stage.

Though I can’t see his face, he glances over his shoulder at me and nods.

The lights go on.

We go on.

And just like that the crowd only exists to feed me. I go into my own version of beast mode. I am a monster that thrives on cheers and cries and the sweat of everyone in this theater.

I pummel the bass, whipping my hair around, putting every ounce of energy into every note and for now I feel limitless, like my energy has endless reserves that can never be exhausted.

And through it all, I feel intensely connected to Brad, more than I thought I could. I feel connected to everyone. On the stage, in the crowd. We’re all one, all feeding off each other, all lifting each other until we come together in the song.

It’s the best feeling I’ve ever had in my life.

And I know I want to keep doing this until the day I die.

***

“This is a little ridiculous,” I yell up at George, the driver of the bus.

As in the driver of my bus.

As in, I have a fucking bus all to myself because my father doesn’t want me riding with the rest of the band for who knows what reason. He probably thinks they’re a bad influence on me, as if I can be so easily coerced.

Either way, it’s ridiculous.

“I know,” George, a heavy-set guy with a perpetually sweaty forehead, says. “Believe me. Every single tour is an even greater pain in the ass. Why the hell can’t Brad fly? I mean, a private jet? Your father would surely get him a fucking private jet. So he’s afraid of flying? Just drug him up.”

“You know what they say about rock stars and airplanes,” I tell him, coming up to sit beside him in the passenger seat. I sigh as I look ahead of us, the back of the tour bus that the rest of the band is on. My band.

“This is just another way to segregate me from them,” I say, crossing my arms. I’ve been floating through most of the day on a high from last night but now that it’s stretching into the evening and we’re speeding up the I-5 to Seattle, I’m losing a bit of the buzz.

Mainly because I’m annoyed.

I don’t know if at this point it’s my father or the band who really want me traveling back here. After last night’s performance, I was certain that I would feel one step closer to the band. I certainly did when I was on stage.

But when we walked off stage after the encore, everyone went their separate ways. There were no pats on the back, no jobs well done. Nothing. It’s like the show didn’t even happen. We just got on our separate buses and that was that.

Fuck it. I don’t need the band’s approval to tell me I did a good job. I got enough from the media. I’ve spent most of day going through all the concert write-ups of the show, trying to see how we appeared to everyone else.

The good news is, everyone loved it. Specifically, they loved me. Sure some said that it seemed I hadn’t found my place yet on stage and was both a bit rusty and a bit green, but most said I brought a new energy to the band and that I was a breath of fresh air after Nick.

The bad news is, I’m not sure how much the band likes all the focus being on me, nor do I know how the fans feel. I mean, I should know, I’m still one of their biggest fans, even though I’m in it. But I also know what it’s like to love the original lineup and hate change. Nick was a dick but he was what they knew and expected. I’m not sure the fans know quite what to do with me yet and obviously there’s going to be a lot of talk over the fact that I’m Ronald’s daughter and probably bought my way in. Plus some rock fans can be pretty misogynistic when it comes to a girl wailing on the bass and holding her own. I think I’ll have to prove myself over and over again.

Eventually we stop at a hotel in Oregon for the night. We’re doing things the long way, driving up from LA to Seattle, then working our way down the coast. Normally Arnie and George take turns driving through these long hauls but in this case, since there’s now a stupid extra bus on account of me, we have to stop for the night.

At least it gives me an opportunity. The minute I exit the bus and see the band getting off their bus, I beeline it over to Brad.

“Hey,” I tell him, grabbing his arm lightly. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

His eyes light up when he sees me, which is a good sign.

“Sure, what’s up? How’s the bus?”

I pull him aside so that we’re out of earshot of Switch and Calvi who are giving us looks.

“About that,” I say. “I think it’s fucking ridiculous.”

He bursts out laughing. “Tell me how you really feel.”

“I’m serious. It’s costly and pointless.”

“It’s your father’s bill. And his wishes.”

“So? Do you always do what he says?”

He cocks a brow at me, studying me for a moment. I think I may have hit a nerve there.

“No,” he says. “You’re here because you wanted to be here fair and square. You won that audition.”

“What I mean is, I’m a grown woman.” At that, his eyes skirt down over my body and I feel myself blushing from head to toe. I swallow hard and push on. “And I can make my own decisions. It’s not up to my father to decide that I should travel in another bus, which not only keeps me purposely excluded from the band I should be connecting with, but adds to the stress of the journey. We could get places quicker on one bus with Arnie and George taking turns as they used to do.”

Brad sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I know,” he says, looking off toward the hotel.

“Plus don’t you want me to get to know you guys better? Become a real band? I can’t do that if I only see you on stage every night. Our music, our shows, they’ll be a thousand times better if I got to be around you all more often. We need to act like a unit. The audience isn’t stupid, they can tell when bands know each other, like each other. There’s a synchronicity in the air.”

He looks at me curiously. “Is that so? You were great last night.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I tell him pointedly. “After the show, you guys all just went your own ways.”

“We don’t sit around and congratulate each other.”

“Well I could use the encouragement. It was my first show with you guys. Shit, it was my first show playing to more than twenty people.”

“Well you did good,” he says with a nod. “And you’ll do better every night. And yes. I agree we should get rid of the bus. Hell. I want to get to know you better too.”

I bite my lip, trying not to smile. It’s funny how certain words and looks from him have me fangirling all over the place. I need to pull it together. I need to ignore that smile that makes my toes curl, those dark eyes that make my skin feel hot.

“But for tonight,” he goes on, “let’s get you checked in to your room. I’ll tell Arnie and George what’s up. Just so you know, we may have to have the other bus trailing behind as a decoy for a few more days.”