September Rain Bk 2, Savor The Days Series (36 page)

I was determined not to get a
headache. There was no reason to get one. I wasn’t stressing out.
Well, I was trying not to. And I might have been a little grumpy
from travelling and I didn’t sleep so well the night before, but
that was nothing new. I’d just gotten over one the weekend before
and usually could avoid getting them more than once or twice a
month. I was happy. I was engaged! To the most beautiful, amazing
man on the planet, no less. Jake was love of my life and I was
travelling with him and the worlds’ greatest rock band.

Ignoring the tightening muscles in my
neck and shoulders, I watched the stage in front of me, kept my
fingers on the edge. Later, I’d tell Jake to kiss my neck. His
touch always loosened me up.

When the lights went out, the crowds’
volume rose. My tightening muscles dissipated, relaxing as the
cheering crowd reached crescendo. Fists rose higher and I could see
the shadowy form of my Jake slinking to the mic stand. I reached
out and touched his leg.

The stage lights shot up and the music
kicked on, loud and vicious. Sounding so full and harmonious and
passionate, it epitomized the struggle that the song spoke about.
Jake was beautiful, screaming, grimacing with my torment and
delight. It spiked my lust for his illicit mouth. His lean,
towering frame, draped in brown and black commanded the audience.
The beads of sweat grew as he worked the crowd, touching
outstretched hands.

The moisture poured down his glorious
face as he sang and played my favorite songs. I watched, in awe, as
he raked his hand over his dripping head. His fingers, my fingers,
flicked the drenching wet into the faces of the crowd. He smiled. I
smiled.

The audience was both captive and
captivated by the strength of his voice. Pitch perfect, it never
cracked or wavered. His finely tuned instrument unleashed its’
resonance through parted lips, shooting through the air, piercing
the hearts of everyone privileged enough to hear. Behind him, the
bass thrummed in perfect compliment. The guitar wailed in adoring
tones with perfectly meshed punk, blues and metal. I think there
was even a little Latin in the melody.

That Angelica chick was good. Really
freaking good. Too good to complain about. So good, that the entire
band sounded better because of her. Electric and easy to watch as
she played, looking out at the crowd like, ‘what’s up, bitches?’
She had so much confidence—she was the shit and she knew it. She
was a star.

She was terrible.

The drums thrashed in quick
succession, carrying the rhythm of my heart; steadily pounding
while the crowd chanted along. The culmination of sounds was all
for him. My singer. He directed us, took us to our knees and made
us dance while our ears burned from the volume. We screamed for
more. We wanted to bleed.

I took a chance, glancing back at the
crowds behind us. Avery was laughing and dancing. Everyone’s heads
were jerking back and forth, banging in time with the music. Of
course they were. How could you not love it? The electricity! The
energy of the band was a flood, washing over all of us. We had to
move or drown in it.

I dove into the mosh pit, hanging onto
Avery as she marched. Thrashing. Pounding. Arms and legs flew
everywhere. Our cadence was violent and addicting. We marched in an
endless circle matched only by the eternal beat of the
music.

I kept my eyes trained on Jake, not
wanting to miss one second while he thundered in his
glory.

The song ended in a heart rending note
that sailed up higher and higher until it broke through the ceiling
into the sky. It hummed into nothingness while the band panted.
Jake set one hand on his knee, bending down to take a long drink of
water.

I took my spot back in front of the
stage. Right in the center. I reached out and touched the cold
metal of his mic stand. That caught his attention. He looked down
at me with his big, beautiful eyes and smiled the most stunning
smile.

All mine. Solely for me.

I mouthed two words: “We
okay?”

Jake nodded and kept his eyes trained
on me, scraping over my face. “Yeah,” he mouthed back.

An excited laugh gurgled up from the
pit of my stomach. Because my heart could hear his—it was so
clear—it was like he was screaming at me. He wanted me there just
as much as I wanted to be there. He chose me, still. He might be
upset for whatever reason, but it wasn’t enough to come between
us.

The music began again, a tune I knew
very well. It was one of my many favorites. I pumped my fist into
the air and howled. Right on time, my Jake started singing. It was
my song, the music he wrote for me. It sounded so much better than
last night. I felt him reading my heart like his favorite book. He
knew my every line. I heard my voice carrying over the others and
wondered if Jake could, too. My hands floated with the music. My
head sailed with the sounds of heaven.

Most of the people there didn’t know
this song. It wasn’t recorded. They played it through twice during
sound check, making sure they had the volume levels just right.
They played eleven songs—five that would be on the new CD which was
going to be recorded once we made it out to Los Angeles.

The last song was their
most popular. It was called
Sweet
Pain:

Sweet, sweet
pain

You caught me dancing in
your rain

Soft, sweet
lies

You know I’ll always
compromise

The music lingered, stretching until
it disappeared into wild cheers; a seismic enthusiasm that shook
the clubs wooden floor. The house lights went out again and the
band members cleared the stage. The lights came up once more so
crews could break down the instruments. Band Chick was helping. She
waved in my direction. Avery and I waved back.

“What’s she like?”

“Kinda bitchy. Kinda cool. She smells
good, too. Like Lilacs or some shit. You might like her if she
wasn’t so fucking perfect. Come on, the merch booth is opening.” We
cut across the sticky floor, kicking empty bottles and trash out of
the way—people were such pigs—and squeezing between couples to get
to the growing line.

My heart was getting heavy again,
thinking about what Jake said. He had no reason to be mad at me.
Did he? I had decided at some point without realizing, that
whatever it was, I would apologize. I would do whatever I had to do
to smooth things over with him.

There were t-shirts and wrist bands
with the bands’ newest logo. It was the silhouette of a winged
figure colored in red set against a black shirt and white
lettering. White tour tees with the same logo. There were also a
few black ones at the far side of the table, old band tees with the
banned logo. It was a thick, red plus sign surrounded by a circle
of stars. But the Red Cross, who had an ass-load of lawyers, sent
the band a strongly worded letter about the similarities of the
emblems. So they had to get new shirts.

Avery and I were stocking up on the
old ones which no one seemed to want even though they were cheaper.
But we each bought one for this tour, a hard copy of the album we
already owned, and one wrist band.

Band Chick was suddenly behind the
table, shoving the tweaker-looking stand-ins—a guitar
tech-slash-whatever-you-need guy—out of the way. Band Chick started
taking orders. Avery and me were already holding our merchandise,
waiting to pay.

Band Chick looked at me. “Avery,
right?”

“Angel.” I corrected, wondering if she
got my name wrong on purpose. And if she did, what did that
mean?

“Angelica.” She nodded. “Let me see
what you got.”

I handed her my stack. She looked
through it, checked the shirts. “The old logo . . . in small.
Half-off—we have trouble moving that size.”

I almost gagged on her use
of the term ‘
we
.’

Once
we
thanked her,
we
took our change and made for the
car. All our stuff was going in the trunk. Except the CD. The fan
girl in me wanted to get it signed and add it to my collection. It
must have seemed silly to some people that I acted like such a fan,
but at the end of the day, that’s what I was. It didn’t matter that
I knew them or that I was going to marry the singer. I loved the
band. Their music saved me on a daily basis.

Avery double-checked she had the
marker before we headed back inside.

Once the next band started playing,
most of the crowd rushed to the front. Only a small group of people
hung back, near the bar. I counted eleven. Mostly dudes drinking.
Until Jake and Max appeared, freshly showered. Then, the barrage
began. Men and women, young and old were clamoring, pressing passed
Avery and me to get to them.

“Where did they come from?” Avery was
laughing, getting jostled around.

A man shoved me aside; I bounced off a
womans chest as she moved around me. The womans’ eyes shrank,
chastising me—which set Avery off. I begged her not to make a scene
and get us kicked out.

She sighed and stepped to her right
until she came face to face with Max. The two exchanged a few
words. The only voice I heard belonged to Max. As he watched, Avery
turned and walked away.

“But, we’ll see you back at the motel.
Right?”

Avery grinned at the comment and I
knew then and there what she was up to. Max saw none of it when she
turned back to give her answer. It was a limp stare.
“Whatever.”

We took our time strolling to the
door. As I scanned the room for Jake who had been swallowed by the
crowd, Avery stuck me in the ribs.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You shouldn’t always be the one
waiting. You have to make him wait sometimes, too.”

“Hey!” Band Chick appeared alongside
us. “Jake wanted me tell you it’ll be about thirty minutes before
he can head out.” She smiled. “In rock-speak, I think that equals
two solid hours. Laters, Chicky.” She patted Avery’s back and
disappeared into the crowd.

I rubbed at the lumps of stress
forming at the back of my neck. “Why do I hate her so
much?”

“Because she can do something you
can’t and that makes you feel inadequate.” Avery put her arm around
me when tears formed in my eyes. “I didn’t say she’s better than
you or that you should feel threatened, because you shouldn’t.” She
pointed between a few heads. “Look at them.”

The throng was surrounding Jake, Max
and Andrew. Band Chick—Angelica—was standing behind them with her
eyes on Andrew. She was watching him sign a girls arm. She didn’t
look unhappy about it, but as I continued to watch her, I noticed
her gaze never left him. She only looked at anyone else when they
spoke to her. Jake didn’t speak to her at all.

Avery explained, “No one is trying to
take your man, aside from the obligatory groupies.” She amended.
“But you’re the only groupie he’s interested in.” She pointed again
and I looked back.

Jake was standing in the
midst of a herd of people, men and women, clamoring for his
attention. There were at least four people talking to him and more
waiting for their turn. And in the middle of that chaos he was
looking beyond them, at me. He mouthed a word, I think it
was
soon
. And
then he shifted to pose for a picture, shifting his eyes away from
me to the camera in front of him.

Maybe Avery was right. Maybe I should
make Jake wait. He’d shut me out, wanted me to suffer for answers
that he could have easily given and alleviated my stress. It seemed
like I had nothing to worry about from Angelica. She was glued to
Andrew. Jake was the one acting strange, worried for some unspoken
reason, he was the one pulling away from me. Since I joined him on
the tour, I’d been waiting in the wings, begging for any morsel of
affection.

He could be the one waiting for a
change.

Once my mind was set, I thought up a
lot of reasons why we needed to leave the club. We had to get back
to the motel room because there would undoubtedly be some kind of
celebration for the newest band member. Avery said, “We have to
welcome her with open arms. You know what they say about keeping
enemies closer.” So, we should be ready with party essentials.
Plus, I had to shower. I smelled like the mosh pit.

On the way back, we stopped at a local
dollar store and begged the checker to let us in even though they
were closing in exactly one minute. We grabbed junk food, and more
chips and sodas and some mint gum.

The motel room was a huge
mess.

“How did we do all this in just a few
hours?” Avery was staring at the cluttered bathroom
counter.

“We live and breathe.” Immediately, I
was grabbing the towels from the floor to hang them up.

“I’ll make the beds.” Avery twirled
from the doorway. A second later, music was playing.

Once the bathroom was picked up and
our clothes were put away, I headed over to help Avery, who was
barely finishing the first bed.

Once everything was nice and tidy, we
sat down to watch the end of Sleep Away Camp on the free HBO and
munch. Surely, the nights’ celebration would call for beer so I
needed something in my stomach. Also, if Jake planned to go a round
with me over whatever set him off, I’d need a beer or two in me.
Even if I offered up an immediate apology, he would want to talk
through it.