Amplified (22 page)

He brushed his hair out of his face, his lips parting. “’Night,” he whispered.

I went into my room before either of us was tempted to say more.

I stayed
remarkably calm the day of the big show. Right until Bryn showed up with the van. Watching him hop out and scramble to the studio made my heart pump faster and my fingers go cold.

I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, focusing on the sound of the ocean—a calming technique Veta taught me. I would
not
psych myself out. Not again.

We’d practiced every song on the set list at least a hundred times this week, and I’d been nailing each one. Even without Sean taking my mind elsewhere. We hadn’t said more than five words to each other since the night I went to Nile’s. Yes, I’d actually counted.
Hey. What’s up? Not much.
But there was no shortage of lingering stares and awkward silences.

After we finished loading the van, Veta and Felix whisked me off to the bathroom to get ready. I’d agreed to a compromise again, but one that suited me better. This ended up being my ripped jeans paired with a black velvet corset top Veta brought over. I actually kind of liked it. The laces down the front narrowed me in the right places, and it made my boobs look kind of, well, okay.

“I was afraid you’d look like you walked out of a bad ’80s movie,” Veta said, combing out my hair. “But I may have to steal this look.” Our other agreement was that I’d wear my hair down instead of up. No biggie. As long as it wasn’t in those ridiculous ringlets again.

“Seriously,” Felix said, eyeing me up and down. “You actually have kind of a nice body, Jasmine.”

“Felix!” Veta shot a rubber band at him.

He covered his mouth, laughing. “What I meant was, you’re always hiding under, like, clothes.”

“That’s the idea,” I said. “Not all of us enjoy walking around in little towels all day.”

He pouted. “I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” Veta and I said in unison.

His eyes widened at both of us. “Not all day!”

Veta fluffed my hair and inspected her work. “There ya go,
mamacita
.”

“Thanks.”

“Now shoo.” She waved me out. “I need to fix Felix’s makeup.”

“What’s wrong with it?” he whined.

I walked out, chuckling. Bryn and Sean were shooting pool—well, Sean was. Bryn watched with his arms folded. Both had their stage garb on—Bryn in a tight-fitting shirt that showed off his physique and Sean with his fedora and button-down shirt.

“You finally done?” Bryn asked me.

“She needs to fix Felix’s makeup.”

Bryn rolled his eyes. “Oh, good God.”

Sean made a shot but didn’t pocket it. He glanced up at me, scanning my top. I folded my arms over it out of habit.

“Hey,” he said, standing up.

“Hi.”

He stood the cue up and motioned toward me. “You look…um…”

“Wipe the drool off your chin, will ya?” Bryn bent over to make his shot.

“You look really nice,” Sean continued.

“
You look really nice
,” Bryn imitated in a high voice. “What are you—her grandmother?”

Sean shook his head, a smile twitching at his lips. “Why don’t you focus on
not
scratching this time, man?”

I smiled and headed for my balcony, my last chance at solitude before the show started.

Fifteen more minutes, they told us. Every part of my body quivered. We’d just finished setting up, and we were standing in the backstage area, twiddling our thumbs. At least, Veta and I were. Bryn was talking to some girls on the floor, Felix had disappeared with Samantha, and Sean was outside, probably chatting it up with Amy. She’d been hanging around out back since load-in time.

We were playing at this club called Pacific Edge. It was the biggest venue in Santa Cruz—three times the size of the Roach—and the show sold out an hour ago. It took deep concentration to keep my dinner down.

Veta put her hand on my back. “Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.”

“Shh, people can hear you.”

Zia watched us from the corner, sipping from a water bottle. She had this analytical glint in her eyes, like she was an anthropologist studying our primitive behavior.

I nudged Veta. “I meant to ask—what happened with you and Zia at the party last week?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” she mumbled. “I introduced myself, and she was, like, oh—hi. And then Ajay started talking to me and she disappeared.”

“Lame.”

“Whatever. I’m over it.” She checked her compact mirror, smoothing her lipstick. “You think this color is too dark?”

I shook my head, biting back a smile. “Yeah, you’re over it, all right.”

She stuck her tongue out at me. “I’m going to change colors. I’ll be back.”

“We don’t have”—she flew out the back door—“much time,” I muttered to myself.

I glanced over at Zia, who was still watching me. Great. Now what? I rubbed my hands together, searching for something to busy myself with. But everything was in order. The venue required a sound check from us beforehand, and we were the first band going on, so there wasn’t a need to scramble this time.

“Hey, Jasmine,” a deep voice said behind me.

I turned to face Nile—something I’d been dreading all night. Veta and I had come up with a list of things I could do if he approached me, but I just stood there with my mouth half-open, like I was waiting to catch a fly.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

I folded my arms. “It’s going.” My mind scrambled to remember the list. It was on a piece of lined yellow paper and written in Veta’s supergirlie handwriting—circular letters and loopy
y
’s.

He scratched his pointy nose. “Listen, I hope there are no hard feelings about last weekend. I just wasn’t feeling it, you know?”

“Not feeling what?”

His gray eyes combed my face. “Your guitar work.”

“I played for, like, a minute.”

“Yeah, well…To be honest, I’m kind of leery that you haven’t finished any songs of your own. And I expected a little more enthusiasm.”

A laugh escaped my lips. It had to. This was so absurd. “Are you kidding?”

He squinted at me. “Jasmine, you didn’t show up until after nine. And then you walked out an hour later.”

“And nothing says enthusiasm like spending the night. Got it.”

He shrugged. “Whatever. I thought I’d let you know.” With that, he stuck a cigarette between his lips and headed out the back door.

I glared after him, wondering if Nile was the exception or the rule. Sean would probably say the rule—a depressing thought.

Bryn appeared from the stage area, his eyes darting between Zia and me. “Where is everyone?”

“Not here,” I said.

He scowled but lowered his voice. “Can you be more specific?”

“Veta is fixing her lipstick. And the guys are outside, I think.”

He rolled his eyes and leaned toward my ear. “Do me a favor and stay put.”

I nodded—where else would I go? It wasn’t like I knew anyone else here, and not going outside lessened my chances of having to deal with Amy. Or, worse yet, seeing her and Sean together. The thought
still
made me boil a little inside.

After Bryn disappeared outside to round up the troops, Zia approached me. Well, not really approached. More like, suddenly appeared.

“Hi,” I said, jumping a little.

Her ruby-red lips stretched upward, and her almost-alien blue eyes bored into mine. The bleached hair pulled into a high ponytail only added to her otherworldly look. “Can I give you some unsolicited advice?” Her voice was high—almost childlike. Not at all what she sounded like onstage.

“Sure…okay.”

Her small hands gripped both my shoulders. I sucked in my breath.

“This business will devour you like an afternoon snack,” she said. “If you’re not ready for the fight of your life…run.” She touched my cheek, making me tense. “Run like hell.”

Whatever I said back was unintelligible. Probably “yeah” or “thanks” or “okay.” This girl couldn’t possibly know anything about me—except that I’d been duped by Nile. And that was probably what she was referring to. But I’d been in the fight of my life since I walked out my dad’s door.

Sean and Bryn returned just then. “Where’s Felix? He was right behind us,” Bryn said, his eyes doing that nervous, buggy thing.

“Still kissing Samantha?” Sean guessed.

Zia backed away and headed for the exit, her black, Victorian-style skirt trailing after her. A cool wind blew in as she left, giving me goose bumps. She reminded me of the Oracle—or something not quite human.

“Am I the only one who cares that we’re going on in five minutes?” Bryn asked, running his fingers through his dreads and pacing.

Sean gave me a small smile, but his fedora hid his eyes. “Hey.”

“Hi.” How long were we going to do this?

“I’ll be back. Again,” Bryn growled. He pointed at both of us. “Don’t even think about going anywhere.”

“Were you just talking to Zia?” Sean asked.

“Yep,” I said.

He didn’t push for more—which was smart. I wasn’t going to share.

“How are you holding up?” he asked in a soft voice. “Okay?”

I may have had plenty of idiotic moments since moving here, but I wasn’t going to break. I knew that much. “Pretty good, actually.”

He shifted his weight, nodding. “I only asked because you’ve got the whole deer-in-headlights thing going on again.”

“I’m about to perform for a thousand people, Sean.” I laughed. “But at least my shoes fit this time.”

“Good—glad to hear it.” He took his fedora off and swept his hair back. “
I’m
scared shitless.”

“Please. You’re the king of calm.”

He looked up at me, a playful glint in his eyes. “I’m also unbeatable at poker.”

“Yeah?” I let a smile escape. “You’ve never met my dad.”

Bryn burst through the door with Felix
and
Veta in tow. Impressive. But he didn’t look terribly happy.

“It shouldn’t be like this every fucking time, Veta,” he said. “Do I look like your mother?”

She stood next to me and grinned. “No, but you act like her sometimes.”

Sean and Felix snorted a laugh.

Bryn threw his hands in the air. “Someone has to take the initiative.”

“I know.” Veta batted her eyelashes. “And you’re good at it. That’s why you’re the best person for the job.”

“Yeah?” Bryn walked toward her, his eyes dark. “Well, I’m sick of it.”

“Relax. We’re all here—with two minutes to spare,” Veta said. “As always.”

“Yeah, thanks to me.” He turned toward the stage, folding his arms. “As usual.”

I had to admit—I felt for Bryn. It couldn’t be easy, always being the responsible one and then taking crap for it. “I appreciate you, Bryn,” I said. “Even if we butt heads.”

He gave me a nod over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Veta laced her fingers through mine. “You ready?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Just close your eyes and know I got your back,” she whispered. “We all do—even Bryn.”

I shut my eyes, tightening my grip on her hand. Her fingers were warm and callused, like mine. My mind tried to picture everyone out on that floor. I could see Amy and Dave, their cruel smiles and whispers. My heart pounded with anger this time—not fear. I’d already given them too much power.

There was a whole crowd out there, waiting to hear our story—whether they knew it or not. Most of them were probably grabbing drinks at the bar or chatting loudly, hoping we didn’t suck. Because at least then their wait for Luna’s Temptation would be bearable. But opening bands didn’t earn respect by being just bearable. We needed to be unforgettable—perhaps even give Luna’s Temptation a run for their money.

Sure, I had pretty high expectations for someone who’d graced the stage only once before—and blown it. But I had nowhere to go but up. Why not aim as high as possible? And if I screwed up this time, at least I could say I went down fighting—not standing there like a deer in headlights, as Sean would say. I owed the band that much. I owed myself that much.

“We’re on,” Veta squealed.

A hand touched my shoulder. I knew it was Sean. “Good luck,” he whispered.

“You too.” I opened my eyes and put one foot in front of the other.

The stage seemed to go on for miles in the dim red light. I could see silhouettes and hear a chorus of voices below. Some people were crammed up front, but most were walking around or huddled near the bar. They weren’t going to make this easy.

We were opening with “Encryption” again, and Felix didn’t waste any time starting up his underwater drum loop. His rumbling bass synth bounced off the walls and vibrated the floor, but most of the crowd kept their backs to us. I tapped my foot, my fingers preparing for the verse arpeggio.

“What’s up?” Veta called out. She got a couple of hoots in response, but not much else. “We’re C-Side—some of you may have heard of us.” A few more people hollered. “This first—”

“Just shut up and play already!” a guy shouted. Laughter followed and someone else did a wolf whistle.

Veta’s shoulders tensed. I expected one of her smart-ass comments, but nothing came. I wanted to hug her.

“This first song is called ‘Encryption,’” she said finally, standing taller.

Bryn added in his hard-edged beat; it seemed to have even more punch tonight. And Sean mirrored Felix’s synth bass, his upper body moving in rhythm. I closed my eyes, hoping for the best. My arpeggio flowed out of my monitor, taking me back to the balcony—where the ocean was my only audience.

“Lost in pictures.” Veta’s smooth voice glided over the waves, like snippets of sunlight. “Writhing with conviction. You walk among the phantoms you breed. Your lips catch my breath, but your talk is cheap.”

It was as if I were hearing Veta’s lyrics for the first time. My entire body reacted, sending chills down my bare shoulders and arms.

I joined in with the four power chords of the chorus—heavily distorted, even strums. My head tilted back and my right foot stomped in time. Red, blue, and green lights flickered around us, following our sound, our movements. But they still made me dizzy.

Veta lurched at the mic, her long legs in a wide stance. “You rise above it all. Press my back against the wall…”