Текст книги "The Song Remains the Same"

Автор книги: Kelli Jean

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 28 страниц)

“That sounds good.”

“You feel up to some shoppin’? I need to get some more clothes.”

“I thought that’s what Sheri was for.”

“Yeah, but she’s got a shitload of other things to take care of, and I wanna go out with my Baby Girl.”

“You mean, you want to take me shopping.”

“Maybe. I like buyin’ you stuff. Is that so wrong?”

“No.” I sighed and smiled. “I guess we could do that.”

Four hours later, we were opening the door to our hotel room with two roadies following behind us, carrying at least fifteen shopping bags. I was exhausted, and my brain was numb. After shopping trips like the one I had just endured, I felt as though my IQ had dropped.

Phil was extremely happy, having bought me all sorts of stuff—mostly black, lacy unnecessary items that would just disintegrate under his hot gaze and a few swishy peasant skirts, tank tops, and fancy leather flip-flops—that cost in excess of three thousand dollars. It was to be expected when we’d ended up at the high-end shopping outlets in New York City.

Phil had bought me a new digital camera for shits and giggles. He’d also gotten me an iPod, which he’d gleefully announced he was going to fill up sometime before checkout tomorrow.

The roadies dropped off the bags and headed out. I dropped my ass into the closest chair and groaned from my throbbing feet.

“What’s up?” he asked, picking up the electronics bag and heading for his laptop.

“My feet. I fucking hate shopping.”

Phil dropped the bag next to the laptop and turned around. He scooped me up and laid me down on the bed. He lifted off my flip-flops and tossed them to the floor.

“Was it torture for you?” He started gently kneading his thumbs into the sole of one foot.

“Oh my God…” I groaned, closing my eyes.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“You were so happy. I didn’t want to spoil it for you.”

Phil had some seriously strong hands.

“You know, if this whole singing thing doesn’t work out for you, you could have a promising career as a massage therapist,” I told him.

“You’ve got the most adorable feet. I like your toe rings. You never take them off, do you?”

“Nope,” I replied, making a popping noise on the P.

“Why not?”

“The one on my right foot, my mom gave me on my sixteenth birthday. The one on my left was hers. When she passed away, I put it on. Sort of like having her with me every step of the way.”

“That’s kind of…beautiful.” His thumbs found the knots and pushed deep and smooth, easing into the pressure.

“How did you get so good at this?” I moaned.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just tryin’ to do what you do when you massage me.”

“You’re fucking brilliant.”

“Vicariously so,” he retorted.

The man massaged me for a full thirty minutes. All the muscles in my feet felt like they’d turned into melted butter.

“Better?”

“Oh gods, yes. Thanks, babe.”

From the foot of the bed, he crawled up and over me, settling between my thighs. Holding his weight up on his forearms, he dropped a sweet kiss on my lips.

“Are you excited for tomorrow?” he asked.

“Hell yeah, I am!” I replied, grinning. “It’s been a while since I went to a Festivus Tour. And my favorite band of all time is headlining. It’s gonna fucking rock.”

He kissed me again. “You’re such a fan, Baby Girl.”

I held up my right hand, index finger pointing up. “Number one. I’m their number one fan.”

He ground his thickening groin against me. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mmhmm…”

“You got a huge crush on one of them, don’t you?”

“Extremely huge.”

“Which one?”

“Well…I like ’em dark…”

“Uh-huh.”

“And well built.”

“Mmhmm…”

“And Mexican with pierced cocks—augh!”

Phil’s fingers dug into my ribs, wriggling ferociously. “You take that back, woman!”

“Never!” I squealed. “My heart pines for the little shit of a drummer!”

To compound the tickling, Phil dug his stubbly face into the soft flesh of my neck, rubbing vigorously.

“Ah! Okay! Okay!”

He ceased immediately and scowled at me. “Who then? Who’s your favorite?”

“The golden Adonis who plays lead guitar!” Tortuous tickling continued until I cried, “Uncle!”

“Who’s your favorite, woman?”

I sobered up, looking into his soulful eyes. “You. You’re my one and only.”

Groaning, he pressed his hot open mouth to mine, his tongue slipping in and rubbing sensuously. It was a kiss meant to ignite lust and passion. Every nerve ending inside me lit up and tingled.

“Do you feel it, too?” I asked breathlessly.

“I’m forever on fuckin’ fire for you,” he replied, going in for another mouth-tangling. “It’s never enough, and each time is better than the last.”

Sweaty, sticky, stinky, I had hoped to shower before getting freaky, but Phil had other ideas. Somehow, my clothes ended up peeled off, and then by some miracle, his simply melted away and resurfaced in a pile on the floor.

Dark Sex God of the Universe knelt between my spread thighs, his hands gently caressing up them. With his sun-kissed bronze flesh inked with my name and rippling muscles, Phil had one of the most incredible male physiques, he was just so fucking stunning.

And he was mine.

“You’re so beautiful, Kenna,” he said softly. “I can hardly believe I’m allowed to touch this, you…”

“That pretty much sums up how I feel about you,” I told him.

He held out his hands to me, and I took them. He pulled me up to straddle his thighs. Lifting me by my rump with one arm, he used the other hand to position himself, and I sank slowly down the length of him. His eyes held mine the entire slide, burning and intense.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered. “Like home.”

My ass in his hands, he lifted me up and pushed me down the length of him again and again and again.

“Hold me tight, Kenna,” he growled. “Everywhere.”

Arms wrapped around his shoulders, I clenched around his cock and held it.

“Oh, fuuuck…” Phil’s hips punched each time he brought me down, his pubic bone rubbing into my clit just right.

The orgasm began to boil through me, bubbling up, spilling over. Heart hammering, fingers digging into his muscles, I sank my teeth into the skin at the base of his neck.

“Harder!” he yelled. “I wanna wear it!”

Faintly, the coppery taste of blood touched my taste buds, and I drew back in shock. “Babe…”

But he had hit his own peak, his head dropping back. “Kenna!” he cried out, hands grasping my ass in a hard grip, pulling me against him. The head of his cock pushed a zinging pain through my cervix as it pulsed wickedly inside me. “Fuck!”

Phil collapsed backward onto the bed, breathing harshly. The impact jabbed his still hard cock even further into my cervix, making me wince.

“You’re bleeding a little,” I told him.

He grunted in reply as his chest heaved, and he struggled to catch his breath.

“We should clean that, babe—”

“Hush, Baby Girl. I’m…I’m fuckin’ enjoyin’ this.”

“But—”

“In a minute,” he grunted again. “That was…so fuckin’…hot.”

“You’re a freak!” I laughed.

“Yeah, I know.” He sucked in another deep breath. “I don’t know why, but when you do shit like that…I fuckin’ come so hard. I love it.”

Gathering me into his chest, he sighed happily. His hands roamed along my back and up again.

“You wanna shower?” he asked, his voice soft with contentment.

“That’d be great.”

“You know I’m gonna spend the rest of the day and possibly all night fuckin’ you, right?”

“I figured as much.”

“Are you complainin’?”

“Nope.”

“That’s my Baby Girl.”

NOLA’s Junk had released their new album, Homecoming, two weeks before the start of the tour. As with every other one of their albums, I’d arrived at the music store to buy it as soon as they’d opened. Some might think that I was a weirdo, considering I had one of the original recordings in its clear plastic case, signed by all five of the band members. But I had a tradition with Our Boys, and Alys and Lili had joined me, so we each could buy our own copy.

Homecoming was a masterpiece.

There were twelve songs, and each one was a personal favorite of mine in some way—even “Louisiana Baby,” catchy little pop song that it was. They had taken their sound and developed it beyond anything anyone had heard before. It was heavy, dark, hauntingly beautiful, unique, and above all, ingenious.

Much anticipated, it had debuted at number seven and skyrocketed to number one the following week. Ticket sales for the Twisted Festivus Tour had sold out in major cities after that. The first concert of the tour at Bethel Woods was no exception, selling out fifteen thousand tickets.

“Shit, it’s hot!” Alys complained before chugging half of a mega-sized beer. “And before either of you say”—her voice inflected to a high-pitched whine—“it’s a dry heat, it’s still fucking hot.”

“No shit,” I replied, unleashing a huge belch. I was chugging, too. Hot beer was gross, and it was as frosty as it was ever going to be.

Quickly following my own, Lili’s burp defied logic and possibly ripped the fabric of the universe. A group of guys parked on their asses in front of us turned to admire our unladylike superpowers. The three of us grinned at them, wholly unashamed to be buzzing at noon.

Crap stage, day one, the first band was god-awful and appeared prepubescent—not that age had anything to do with it, but talent seemed scarce. All these bands were locals looking for their big break. Most of them would be utter shit. It was to be expected. Not everyone could be blessed like Our Boys, whose first serious public appearance had thrown them onto the path of stardom.

“I’m going to need more mental lubricant if we’re expected to sit here and listen to this sort of garbage,” Alys stated. “You guys need more beer?”

“Yes, please,” Lili and I chorused.

Watching her retreating form, Lili sighed. “We’re gonna be tanked soon.”

“It’s cool. It’s Festivus.”

“Ha-ha! Yeah.”

By the time we finished what we had, Alys was back with fresh ones. The second band wasn’t any better, even with the second mega-beer.

“I’m starting to think our boyfriends don’t really like us,” I huffed. “This is audio torture. Are my ears bleeding?”

“No,” said Alys.

“Can you shove your pen in them, so they do?”

Lili cracked up, snapping some photos.

“Can we at least check out another stage?” Alys asked. “I mean, we don’t have to sit here the whole damn time, do we? My musically appreciative soul is starting to wither and die.”

We ended up giving the third band a chance, but then we left after their first song. Enough was enough, damn it. We were desperate to listen to something halfway decent. My guilt over not doing my job got the better of me though, and I called Phil to make sure we wouldn’t be in too much trouble.

“Hey, Baby Girl.”

“Garbage!” I barked. “We can’t take it anymore! All of them were absolute garbage, babe!”

“Are you drunk?” he asked, sounding both alarmed and somewhat amused.

“We thought some beer might help, but noooo. The first three bands made me want to shove sharp objects in my ears. We’re heading to the second stage for a break. Is that cool? I mean, are you guys going to be pissed off if we abandon our post or something? Because we’re seriously debating how much you all really love us, forcing us to listen to that shit—”

“You don’t have to sit there the whole time. Just enjoy the festival, and if you hear something good, get their info.”

“Seriously? ’Cause I was under the impression that we were here to find unsigned decent bands.”

“You are, but it’s not like we’re gonna force you to sit in one spot. You sure you ain’t drunk?”

“No.”

“Are you tellin’ me you guys are inebriated before two in the afternoon?”

Cracking up, I held the phone away from my face. “Phil called us inebriated!”

Alys and Lili found this hilarious as well.

“Baby Girl!” barked out of my phone.

“Hey, babe!”

“Holy shit, I’m comin’ to find your ass and beatin’ it—”

“What purpose will that serve? I’ll just get turned on, you’ll get all frisky, and we’ll just end up—”

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Enough for me to really be enjoying myself, but not enough to be unable to walk a straight line or find a toilet if I need.”

“Well, all right. You havin’ fun?”

“I am now that we’ve left the crap stage behind us,” I grumbled darkly. “Phantomsy is the first band on the main stage, and I think we’re going to head over there…”

“Kenna—”

“Oou! Yes! They’re getting ready to go on! Quick! We can get to the front with our passes!” I grabbed Alys’s hand, and in turn, she grabbed Lili’s. “Bye, babe! Call you in a bit!”

“Kenna—”

I shoved my phone in my pocket, and we hauled ass. We were granted full access to watch the first band on the main stage. These guys were good, and we were happy. Yeah, we were a little inebriated, so it made for a fantastic moment to just rock out.

It wasn’t until they finished their fourth song that I spied a familiar face far at the end of the security line.

Tiny.

He was the enormous, soft-spoken security guard who was in charge of all of NOLA’s Junk security detail. He noticed me glaring at him and waved shyly, and then he said something into a walkie-talkie.

Dude, seriously?

Despite the walkie-talkie, he wasn’t making a move toward us.

At least he’s not hauling us out of here like disobedient children, I thought sourly.

After Phantomsy’s set ended, I marched my ass over to Tiny, who was sweating profusely. Good. Even if it was only the heat getting to him, I was glad he was uncomfortable. “What’s going on, Tiny?”

“Guys just wanted to make sure you ladies were safe, is all. I’m not to interfere unless things get hairy.”

“Define hairy.”

“Uh…mosh-pit-style shit?”

“So, we’re really allowed to do what we want?”

“I’m only here to make sure none of you get hurt.”

I nodded. “All right then. I appreciate that.”

His blindingly white smile made me blink. “No problem. You ladies go on and enjoy yourselves, okay? I’ll be watchin’ from a distance.”

“All right,” I replied.

Alys, Lili, and me turned and walked away from the giant bodyguard.

“I want to say it’s sweet, but it’s kind of creepy,” said Alys as we made it to the nearest beer stand.

“No, it’s fucking creepy,” I stated, still feeling miffed. “I mean, what have we been doing for the last fucking decade? Festivals, concerts, and, hell, even mosh pits! Even at Bougainvillea, Phil had to make a stink when he found us on the ground level.”

“Wish I had been there to see that. It sounds classic,” said Lili.

“It’s fucking stupid! It’s how they fucking met us! We weren’t parked at a table, keeping our asses out of the fun! We were front and center. Why would we change? We aren’t that old!”

“It’s like Tiny said. They just want us to be safe,” replied Alys.

“Three beers,” I snapped at the beer slinger. “Please,” I amended.

Thirty bucks later, we were sitting on the lawn, sipping our fresh beers and enjoying the expensive taste of them.

“I just realized we’ve spent nearly a hundred bucks on domestic beer,” grumped Alys.

“Are they tax deductible?” chirped Lili.

“You know what’s weird? Connor not being with us,” I said, picking at a clump of grass.

Alys was beaming though. “It is weird. I’m so proud of him, you guys. He did it. He fucking made it!”

Excitement effervesced around my heart for my brother. “Yeah, he did. He fucking made it.”

“X says he’s the best out of all of them,” Alys said quietly. “He thinks Connor is the most amazing thing to happen to NOLA’s Junk.”

“Wow!” breathed Lili. “That’s a fucking compliment, if I ever heard one. I guess they’d never tell him that though.”

“And blow his ego out of proportion? Hell no.” I laughed.

“He did bring a certain element to the album,” Lili stated. “They made a phenomenal masterpiece. And ‘The Fortunate Fallen’ song? I get goose bumps every time I listen to it.”

Indeed, ‘The Fortunate Fallen’ was an epic nine-minute song dedicated to the past five years they had lived away from their home and loved ones. It was a beautiful tribute to all of us.

My phone started going off in the pocket of my baggy cargoes and I pulled it out to answer it. “Hey, babe.”

“Hey. Where are you?”

“Sitting on the lawn, having a beer. Phantomsy was pretty good. Tiny says hi.”

Phil chuckled. “Don’t be pissy. You feel like coming back to me?”

“Am I in trouble?”

“Nope. Just want to hold you while I try to take a nap.”

“Oh. Does that mean we’re free from work today?”

“Sure.”

“All right. Gimme about twenty minutes or so.”

“No worries.”

Chugging my beer, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand because I was classy like that. “Right. Well, I’ve been called to spoon with Phil. See you guys later?”

“Aw, man!” whined Lili.

“Well, go spoon with Lewis then!”

“He’s getting the guys’ dinner ready for later.”

Alys laughed. “We’ll catch you later, spooner.”

Buzzing pleasantly, I weaved through the crowd, heading for the backstage area. Holding out my pass, I was hustled through the checkpoint with no fuss. Without much thought for anything, I made my way to the back road that would lead me to the tour buses.

Staring down at the ground, I wasn’t watching where I was going, and suddenly, a big pair of battered black Army boots filled my line of vision, halting me in my tracks.

“Hey, Doc.”

My Jackie O’s hid much of my face, which had snapped up at the sound of that smooth lilting voice.

Devon GianFranco.

He really was too good-looking. His glossy black hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. The front was too short, but it fell artlessly around his face. Silver aviators hid his eyes, which just happened to be a shade of turquoise I’d never forget.

“Devon,” I snapped, making my way to walk around him.

A hand shot out and gripped my arm but not tightly.

“Why are you running?”

“You know why,” I replied, shaking my arm from his grip.

He nodded curtly. “I guess there’s no thaw in your Ragin’ Cajun, huh?”

“Can’t say that there is. But I know what went down between you two, and I gotta say, fucked up.”

“I need to talk to him about that. It…it wasn’t what he thought it was.”

“What? Beating the shit out of that poor girl in Berlin? Or raping and beating Camryn and dumping her on him?”

He recoiled. “Camryn?”

“Yeah. Camryn. The chick he was, I don’t know, dating, for lack of a better term.”

“Camryn. The makeup girl?”

“That’s the one.”

“She’s never dated Phil. She’s Jürgen’s creature.”

My buzzing brain fritzed. “Come again?”

“I only fucked her once, Doc. And Phil was there with me.”

My eyes crossed behind my Jackie O’s.

“What did he tell you?” He was so smooth, and fuck, he was sexy, too.

“I’m not supposed to be anywhere near, well, any of you guys. If you want to know, ask him yourself.”

“I was hoping you’d help me with that.”

“I know. And I suggested he do just that, but he’s not buying it. So…have a nice day—even though you beat the fuck out of a girl, spit on her face, and told Phil that that’s what I deserved.”

Devon flinched. “Yeah…look—”

“No, thanks. Bye.”

How I got out of there without breaking into the shakes, I’d never know. Adrenaline was coursing through me in heavy doses, and the fear I was feeling was weird. I was more afraid to be caught talking to the man than him doing anything to me.

Misogynistic motherfuckers! All of them!

Looking around, the amount of scantily clad females was a little appalling. Not all of them dressed like skanks, but I could definitely tell which ones were strictly there for their assets. It felt horrible, but they all had my pity.

Don’t they know they are better than that? It only feeds the misogyny! It lets all these men feel like they could get away with treating women like objects.

Even Our Boys. They had led the same lifestyle, looking at these women as commodities, until we had come into their lives.

Past the trees, I spotted our bus and quickly made my way. Phil was outside, leaning against the side of the bus by the door, his arms folded over his chest. When he saw me, his face split into a dimpled grin that melted my insides. Opening his arms, I all but leaped into them.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice penetrating every corner within me.

“Hey,” I replied, snuggling into his embrace.

“What’s wrong?”

Damn it. Really? “Why do you ask?”

“You feel off. What’s up?”

I could just blame the heat and the beer for giving me the headache, but the thing was, if someone had seen me talking with Devon, it’d get back to Phil, and then shit would hit the fan.

“I ran into GianFranco.”

Phil tensed. “What? What the fuck happened?”

“Nothing. He said hi and told me to convince you to speak with him,” I said, not even touching on the whole Camryn subject. “And then I told him to stay away from me and wished him a pleasant day.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill—”

“Hush. I told him to leave us alone, okay? Leave it at that.”

His arms tightened around me. “First fuckin’ day, and it happens. Shit, are you all right?”

“Yeah. You’re the one who hates him. Not me.”

“You should,” he stated hotly. “How can you—you’re right. We’ll leave it. I ain’t fightin’ with you over him.”

I kissed the exposed skin above his tank top. He smelled lovely. I could almost taste the sunshine he had absorbed since the beginning of the summer. It was like a sweet sort of caramel.

Kissing the top of my head, Phil took my hand and led me onto the bus. I spotted Connor sitting at the dining table, looking mildly ill.

“Connor?”

His green eyes shifted toward me, and he tried to smile. Phil stopped dragging me behind him.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

He looked really pale, and that was saying something, considering he was normally a healthy shade of milk.

“A little nervous I guess,” he replied.

“You’ll do just fine, man,” Phil told him. “It’s always a bit nerve-rackin’ during the first couple of shows.”

Connor nodded.

“If you can do it in front of hundreds, you can do it in front of thousands. Just ask X. He used to hurl before every show for a long time,” Phil informed him.

Again, Connor nodded. “It’s all good, man.”

Phil and I headed up to The Attic.

“I’m kind of worried about him,” I told Phil as we settled in our bed.

The trap door had been retracted, but he made no move to start stripping me of my clothes, which was a relief since I was sweaty and not so fresh in various areas.

Curving his body around mine, he slipped an arm around my waist. “He’ll be fine. Trust me. We all used to piss ourselves when we first started. Once the music starts flowin’, he’ll forget about the crowd.”

I didn’t see how that was possible, but I trusted my man. Behind me, he relaxed. Sighing with happiness, he gave me a slight squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said, brushing his mouth in my hair.

“For what?”

“Comin’ back, so I could fall asleep at home.”

NOLA’s Junk was scheduled to take the stage at nine fifteen.

At eight forty-five, Cornered Cannibal was finishing their set.

Backstage, we waited in the dressing room until Tiny informed us that the Cannibals had cleared the stage, minimizing our contact with them as much as possible. So far, it seemed as though I was the only one who had had any sort of run-in.

As the equipment was switched out, our roadies got busy with getting everything set up in what could only be described as organized chaos, and we made our way to the dimly lit side of the stage.

X and Alys were cracking on each other. Flipper was stretching and windmilling his arms around. He was missing Viv, who wouldn’t be joining us for another week and a half. Jason was enjoying a preshow whiskey while Phil was jumping in place, getting the blood flowing.

Connor was lurking behind everyone, pale face showing his terror.

“Hey,” I said softly, taking both his shaking hands in mine. “You going to be okay?”

“I’m fucking scared shitless, Kenna,” he whispered. “Fifteen thousand people are out there. What if I fuck up?”

“So what if you do?”

He blinked at me in surprise.

“We’ve got a little time. Do you want to meditate with me?” I asked.

He nodded, and we found a quiet corner to settle down in, both of us taking lotus pose. I sat before him, still holding his hands, wanting to transfer my calm energy into him.

“Will you talk me into it?” he begged. “I might not have it in me.”

“Of course,” I replied. “Close your eyes.”

We both did so, shutting out vision.

“Take a deep breath. Imagine that breath is cleansing out your fear. Another. Each one is releasing more of it, replacing it with a sense of calm and peace…”

I felt the subtle shift within him. He stopped trembling, and his body relaxed.

“You’re sinking inside yourself, slipping easily into a state of suspension. It’s warm and safe, filled with love…”

Connor sighed, the last of his fear dissipating. I was there with him in the warm, safe dark place. I could see him as a sweet silvery glow, pulsating with energy and love. He was so ready for this, excited to be a part of his favorite band, headlining the festival that he’d once watched from the other side with his sisters.

He didn’t want to let Our Boys down. They had put so much faith in him, and he loved each of them as though they truly were his brothers. They had handed him his lifelong dream. He didn’t want to screw it up.

“You won’t. You were made for this.”

In my head, I smiled at him, and his silver glow brightened.

“You’ve done this before. Phil’s right. If you can do it in front of hundreds, what’s a few more? Don’t let yourself be intimidated. You are one of the strongest souls I’ve ever known. This is what you’ve worked so hard for. Don’t let fear take it away from you.”

He was reliving all of the fantasies he had had over the years of performing on stage, rocking out with what had once been nameless, faceless band members. Now, he belonged to a tight brotherhood, their faces very real, and they were there for him, holding him up, proud to call him one of their own.

Phil’s blazing hot energy gently touched on my shoulder, prompting my ascension. As I opened my eyes, my vision dazzled as I beheld the aura of my other half in red and gold and every radiant hue in between. He was so beautiful that it almost hurt to look at him.

Glancing at Connor, I could see his aura, too. With blues, greens, and silver, he was calm and collected, ready to face the multitudes.

“Connor?”

He opened his eyes and smiled at me. When he turned his sight up toward Phil, his eyes widened. Connor saw Phil’s true self, too, and like me, he was drawn to it. Phil’s aura sank back into himself, and his dimpled smile made my heart race.

“Five minutes, little brother.” Phil’s voice caressed over us.

Connor smiled broadly. “Fuck yeah.”

Meditating for more than twenty minutes, we had worked through Connor’s fear in that timeless dwelling. The veil of the real world descended, and time caught up with us. Bounding to his feet, Connor allowed his excitement to carry him, rush through him, and he filled himself up with courage to face his first huge concert.

Grabbing me into a bear hug, my brother whispered, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Then, he passed me to my fiancé and bounced over to his other brothers while Phil pulled me into his arms and kissed me.

“You’re just so wonderful, you know that?” he said softly, his deep voice sinking below my skin, into my organs, before absorbing into my soul.

“Go give me my show.” I laughed. “And take care of Connor.”

“Anything for my Baby Girl.”

Just like that, he was gone. He was Phil fucking Deveraux, heavy metal front man, legend among the gods. I was just his other half, watching from the side stage as he entertained the masses, in complete awe of what I was now truly a part of.

“New York!” Phil roared after their first three songs. “Are you having a good fuckin’ time?”

The cacophony of cheers that washed over the stage was staggering. Fifteen thousand voices united in a sustained single wave, crashing and pooling around Our Boys. I could see Connor was in a blissful state of mind.

“What do you think of our new album?” Phil asked the multitudes. “Does it reach your esteemed standards?”

The replying cheer confirmed that they certainly enjoyed it.

“That’s fuckin’ fantastic. You all should thank our newest brother for the way that turned out because, without him, we couldn’t have made such a musical fuckin’ masterpiece. To be honest and in no way fuckin’ modest, that’s what it is. We even surprised ourselves with this one. Everyone, greet our little brother.” He turned and pointed to Connor, who waved. “And fuckin’ tell him thank you!”

“Thank you!” echoed and bounced as fifteen thousand voices acknowledged Connor.

“We got a bit of an epic one for you. If you’ve got Homecoming, you know this one because it’s too fuckin’ long to put on the radio waves. Have you guys heard our little ditty, ‘The Fortunate Fallen’?”

Yes, it would seem that the crowd knew it by the volume of their united voices.

“All right. Get ready then because we’re ready to jam the fuck out for you all!”

The intro started off with Flipper, Connor, and X bringing out the melancholy beauty, and then it was picked up by Jason some heartbeats later. Then, Phil opened his mouth and sang as though his life depended on it.

“Our adventure begins on a dark stretch of highway/

An anthem in our hearts for the tribe we leave behind/

A band of brothers united by the song we play/

We follow the road of our own design./”

For the chorus, both Jason and Connor sang backup vocals, enriching Phil’s powerful voice, making it swell and rise up and over the crowd.

“We are the Fortunate Fallen/

Heroes for each other, if for no one else/

We strengthen these bonds to be unbroken/

Our heart’s anthem a force unto itself./”

Watching them from the side wasn’t the greatest, in my opinion. I would’ve loved nothing more than to run out and view from the crowd, but it was still magical to behold. Seeing the poise and grace in Phil on stage was something else. He was something else up there.

While I was watching Phil swell up with the air needed to release his powerful voice, my eyes spotted something far across the stage. Barely visible was a drawn pale face framed in black fringe with dark circles ringing the eyes. I knew he had attempted to wash the paint off, but he’d ended up leaving a trace of black liner.

Dressed in all black, Devon watched Phil, too. I could see how affected he was by this song, by the power of the music, the lyrics. He ached with it.

His eyes shifted and found me, and the emotion behind them struck me hard behind my rib cage. Devon wasn’t just affected by the music. He was in pain. Devon looked repressed on a level that I couldn’t begin to comprehend.