Her thoughts interrupted the hopeful mood she’d started out with. He wouldn't buy her a ticket to a concert he didn't plan to attend. Would he? No. That would be crazy—but then, he did kiss a girl he barely knew in the middle of an airport.
She placed a hand up to her mouth to smother her awkward smile. Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes as a huff escaped. Oh my God! What was she doing? Her mistrustful head kicked into gear. Why hadn't she called him earlier in the week? Maybe then she could have better gauged the guy through the safety of the phone. She wouldn't have been distracted by his sexy smile or been seduced by his eyes. She should have been more cautious. Maybe he was some weirdo kissing millionaire who went around giving women random concert tickets.
And maybe you’re overreacting.
Of course, she was. Dash had his own ticket and would show up soon. Maybe he was still at work. A bark of laughter escaped, and she threw up her hand. She had no idea where he worked. She hadn't even asked him what he did for a living. Why hadn't I asked him?
Neglect shook her head. She gulped down her wine. Speculation wafted on threads in the air. She needed another glass. At the very least, she should have googled him. Googled him? What was his last name?
The more she thought about how she’d arrived at this point, the more she realized she hadn't gotten any particulars at all. It served her right. She was Miss Detail Oriented. All her metaphorical pretty little ducks had lined up in a sweet little row and just bitten her on the ass. Though she was still holding out hope that Dash would suddenly appear, she also had to face the fact that he might not. The cryptic "hope you enjoy the show" note might hold an explanation she hadn't expected. One thing was for sure, whatever happened, she was getting what she deserved.
A prick of irritation came and went in a flash when she remembered what was in her hand. It was a third-row ticket to one of the hottest bands she'd heard in a long time. Here, there, and everywhere—no matter where Dash was, she was at National Harbor, and she was going to have a damn good time!
Chapter 8
While insecurity roamed through her, Skylar eased the problem with two more glasses of wine. She downed one almost as soon as it was in her hand and carried the other with her. Since she hadn't eaten all day, the alcohol quickly did its magic. What also helped, or hindered depending on your perspective, was that she was a lightweight when it came to alcohol. There was no denying that she was a cheap date. Two glasses down, with a third in her hand, had her very relaxed, and she headed back inside to find her seat.
The venue was easy enough to navigate, and when she returned to the concert hall, an older gentleman with thick, salt and pepper colored hair caught her eye. He wore a blue blazer and gripped a black flashlight in his hand, a dead giveaway that he was an usher. As she approached him, the man broke out a wide, toothy grin.
"Hello, ma'am. How you doin' this evening? May I see your ticket?" His lighthearted tone exposed his jovial personality. She welcomed it, mainly because before the first date had taken place, there was a strong possibility she’d been dumped. Sky handed him her ticket as she scanned the plastic tag citing his name. With squinty eyes, she bent toward his lapel to read the lettering.
"So, Bernie, is it?" She straightened and returned his smile with one equally as bright. "Tell me something good, Bernie. Do I have a decent seat?"
As he perused the ticket, his eyes narrowed, crinkling at the corners. Even in her slightly inebriated state, it was apparent Bernie would have some reading glasses in his future.
"Oh! Yes, ma'am, you do!" He rotated his barrel chest and dipped his chin toward her designated section. "It's right down there, ma'am. Section C. You'll find it real easy. If you have trouble, ask one of those people down there wearing a jacket like mine."
She looked past him and then back. "What do you think, Bernie? Is . . ." she fumbled with the ticket, then held it up close to her eyes. More squinting, and she could make out the numbers. "Is twenty-six a good seat?"
"Yes, ma'am. You're in the third row there. Better seat than the first row, in my opinion. In the first row you go home with a sore neck. Third row is just right. Still close, but far enough away that you can see decent." He used his unlit flashlight as a pointer and Skylar followed it with her eyes. "Just go on down this a'way until you see the letter C. That's your row. Then you can just scoot on over to your seat. The crowd's just coming in, so you won't have many people to climb over."
"Got it. Thanks." She mimicked Bernie's upbeat attitude, gave him an appreciative smile, and continued to her seat. She couldn't help but think Bernie must have a boatload of friends. Each probably had a history with him and could share many tales about their adventures. He was the kind of guy who would make a good character for a story. She would have liked to have a sit down with him and pick his brain over a cup of coffee. Of course, she’d have her notebook handy. Surely, he had stories that could be fodder for a novel.
As she went along, she scanned the arena for any sign of Dash. Nothing. Surprisingly, the fact he was nowhere to be found didn't bother her as much as it had before she’d gone to the bar the second time. It was amazing how the wine had altered her mood. She was no longer irritated with him. For the moment it had disappeared. As the alcohol filtered through her veins, its inebriating effects melted away any annoyance caused by Dash’s absence.
An air of indifference caused her to shrug her shoulders. It was his loss. As a writer, her mind was ripe with possible scenarios. When she added in a little vino, Dash's absence proved to be less of an issue. Not that she didn't care about what happened to him, but she hadn't had a night out in months. Was it selfish that she wanted to have fun and not worry about anything for the next hour or so? She didn't think so. In fact, she entertained the possibility of getting a hotel room if she continued drinking.
A couple of minutes and a few footsteps later, she found her seat. The row was peppered with people but not so many that she tripped over legs and feet to get there. The seats immediately to her right and left were vacant, as were the two directly in front of her. Wherever Dash was, he certainly bought good seats. Though it wasn't likely, Sky couldn't help but think that, if the places stayed empty, it would be perfect. She would have a completely unobstructed view. The stage was so close she felt like she could touch it if she stretched her arm out far enough.
Since there were still a few minutes before the opening act, she took in all the equipment on the ceiling and the stage. Hanging high above were speakers that were as long as she was tall and twice as wide. In her non-expert opinion, it looked like a great sound system. Surely, she would leave with ringing in her ears, but, then, she reasoned, it was all part of the experience.
A few more minutes passed, and in that time, bodies filled the seats. Lights dimmed as the music began to flow. A generous round of applause accompanied the entrance of the opening act. Four musicians and a singer belted out some fresh tunes. They were a local band from the Eastern Shore side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge. As she looked around, it was apparent many in the audience were there to support the hometown group. For the next forty-five minutes, they played an eclectic mix of music, warming up the crowd for the main event. Some audience members stood, but each song received a round of appreciative claps. Having never heard this band before, Sky made a mental note to look them up and add them to her iTunes.
When the first set was finished and the audience rained applause on the band, intermission followed. She stood and stretched. The lights in the arena were bright as concert goers enjoyed a break. The marijuana smog gave the room a halo effect. Many in the crowd took the opportunity to refresh drinks and hit the restrooms. Sky didn't. She scanned the exits nearby, hoping she’d find Dash in the crowd. The search proved futile. All she found was disappointment. It was time to accept the fact she'd been stood up.
Resigned, she took her seat. Most of the crowd was her age or younger. The style of dress was more reinvented '80s than the current day. The only thing she didn't see was
the big hair of the earlier period. These guys were somewhat of a throwback, yet current. She only wished she’d had time to do a little more Googling before she’d to get on the road. Surely, they had an interesting background. As a self-crowned Google Queen, Sky loved research almost as much as she enjoyed writing. It would have been interesting to read some of the pieces that would pop up from the search.
As the lights dimmed, Sky shook her thoughts back to the present. Drifting in the darkness was a track of music, a prelude of sorts. It was the familiar sound she’d been listening to in preparation for tonight. Her body immediately responded. The lower part bounced while the upper half shimmied. Others around her did the same. Feet tapped, shoulders rocked, and legs bounced. She looked around her, feeling the energy in the air. Excitement coursed through her veins, reigniting the effects of the alcohol. The anticipation in the air was almost palpable.
Suddenly, the music faded, then stopped. Simultaneously, the lights dimmed until the room was the color of pitch. A hush fell over the crowd. It barely lasted a moment when the silence was cut by the roar of applause. A spot of bluish-black and white light fell on the stage where a lone guitarist stood in the silence. His head hung low. The combination of spotlight and darkness made him appear ghostly.
With his head down and face hidden, he fired off a ferocious and deafening power chord from his guitar. The crowd went wild. Beneath the expertise of his talented fingers, he continued, enticing the masses with a lengthy, skilled solo. Skylar's heart skipped a beat as the crowd erupted with thunderous applause. The guitarist conjured a frenzy from the multitude. They sprang to their feet, pumped their fists in the sky, and shouted words of praise and affirmation.
Then, silence. As the music ceased, the stage went black. Skylar's heart tripled its beat as light exploded high on the scene in fifty-foot letters.
Disordered Fate
The band's name hung above the stage, their title ablaze as fiery letters, shaded red, yellow, and orange, burned with electronic flames. Hazer machines dusted the stage, the fog rising to kiss the carbon black outline of the band's trademarked logo. A flash of white light jolted the crowd, lighting the stage. As quickly as it appeared, it graduated to the former blue-black. Looking out from his perch on the elevated platform, the drummer sized up the crowd as he pounded thick wooden sticks to skins. To the left, the bass player slapped his instrument, churning out a monstrous note that equaled the bite coming from the lead guitarist. A growl roared from the amplifier as the keyboard player clawed the ivories. Finally, from high up on a rear truss, a white spotlight focused on the back of the lead singer.
He faced away from the crowd, thrusting his hips from side to side in time with the beat of the drum. An explosion of shouts rose from a sea full of fans. Thinner than a man had a right to be, his jeans hung low on his hips and he used his sexuality to seduce the mob. The illumination highlighted his form, casting shadows on a screen hanging from the ceiling to the floor behind the drummer. He raised his arms, and the thin, tie-dyed silk kimono unfolded like the wings of a psychedelic angel. Hues of blues and blacks continued to project beneath the shimmering glow. Radiance emerged as the singer turned toward the crowd. The combination of man, color, and light ramped up the energy of the group. He expertly fisted the microphone stand, wrapping his fingers around the metal neck, which was adorned with brightly colored scarves. When he pointed a finger out into the crowd, the masses went wild.
More a battle cry than song, he screamed as he belted out the first line of a song. With his chin down and his eyes awash with seduction, he sauntered to the front of the stage as he dragged the microphone and its stand with him. His voice baited the audience, the sound hooking them with his unique tones of mixed gravel and crushed glass. Discordant notes, scratched and ragged, clawed their way from his throat. His appearance cast a spell that was dark, evil, and threatening. As he played the crowd, the deep, coarse tone tempted the sea of bodies to release their inhibitions and become one with the music. Like a needle to a vein, he intoxicated the fans, and Skylar fell victim to the sound like all the rest.
Along with several thousand people, she danced. Sky forgot that her date was absent as she surrendered to the driving beat of the music. Her eyes traveled, first to the singer, then to the bass player. The drummer commanded her attention with a pounding rhythm that her hips obeyed. Finally, the guitarist’s solo demanded her notice. His notes were expertly played, the sounds high, shrill, and infectious. She closed her eyes, letting her hips follow the charm he created with his fingers. When she opened them, he captured her gaze with a knowing smile and tempting brown eyes.
Dash!
Skylar shrieked. Her heart seized. Oxygen rushed from her lungs while her legs wobbled.
How could she have missed the connection? Ignorance. That's how. It was her only excuse. In between the time she last saw him and tonight, her time had been consumed with work. Even while looking at his larger-than-life image in the lobby, she hadn't made the connection. The man she’d met at the airport looked nothing like the man in the publicity shot. In the photo, he wore a beard. His hair was well past his shoulders and wavy. Now he was clean-shaven. His style was trendier, short on the sides and long on the top. There was only one thing that hadn't changed. The one feature that, even now, pinned her as it caused the familiar energy to seep quickly into her veins. His gorgeous brown eyes—and they were looking right at her.
Skylar's grin widened, so much so that it threatened to split her face. At the exact moment their eyes met, his smile extended across his handsome features in equal measure. His gaze intensified, his smile growing as he looked at her while shredding his guitar strings. As he played the notes of the song, his eyes locked with hers. Once he was sure they’d made a connection, Dash lost himself in the music.
Skylar watched as he played. His hands were magic. The fingers of one danced on the guitar's sleek neck, while, with the other, he effortlessly charmed the strings with a pick. The weighty, ominous rhythm lured her as it filled the air with heart-pounding moxie. The notes penetrated her skin, making reason melt away. Any concerns she had earlier in the night withered, disappearing within the mass of moving bodies. Some jumped, others slithered, and still, others swayed. Like a sensual snake, Skylar's body gyrated in time with the music. Unlike those who were simply trapped by the rhythm, she was snared by the man himself. He hadn't stood her up. He’d wanted her in attendance. The knowledge liberated her anger. She let go, dancing before him, becoming one with his music.
It was mind-blowing.
And it was all the fault of the man playing guitar with Disordered Fate.
Chapter 9
No longer able to think clearly, Sky gave into her relaxed state. As the band traveled from song to song, she responded by swaying her body and grinding her hips like all the rest. When was the last time she’d let go? Most of her experiences were played out in her own imagination. She couldn't be sure if her euphoria was the electricity emitted by so many bodies or if the source was the bewitching power of the men on stage. Dash, still sporting the sullen posture of a brooding rock star, broke out the notes of the band's first number-one hit with skillful precision.
The frenzy of the crowd went chaotic, half of them jumping on their feet, their voices at near screaming volume. They sang the words to the song with abandon. A person's self-consciousness could die in this atmosphere. Inhibitions fell, the point emphasized as she and others pumped their fists in solidarity, paying homage to their gods of rock.
The band flowed seamlessly from a pounding song to a quiet one, the tempo slowing down just a bit to let the audience catch their breath after so powerful a performance. The crowd clapped together in time with the musicians, creating a solid beat that complimented the band’s music.
Harder.
Louder.
Stronger.
As everyone fell into the tunes, the skunky smell of pot further thickened the air. Skylar wasn't immune. The mushrooming cloud had begun to dev
elop during the opening act and quickly circulated. Now, even more dense, those who hadn't indulged were feeling the effects of the smoke. Vapors lingered, joined with a fresh supply now that Disordered Fate had come to the stage. She inhaled the same as the rest of the crowd, finding relaxation in the contact high.
The energy in the room was as potent and infectious as the driving music. Heart-pounding notes vibrated against the walls. Sky was of the opinion that all rock was musically scored sex. Excitement hovered in the air as rabid fans danced along with the songs of their favorite group.
Now that he was certain he’d gotten her attention Dash turned his focus to the performance. Though it momentarily severed their invisible tether, Skylar danced her ass off. Gone was the cautious bookworm, at least for the night. For whatever time remained this evening, she was going to ride the high. In her place tonight was a girl whose intent was to have fun. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and all of this would be just a memory. Like the memory of the airport kiss.
Shit! The thought sobered her. While Dash was hot as fuck, and she would forever remember this night, they came from two different worlds. It only made sense that she’d replay her fond memories of him over and over again but, to him, she would be just another girl he met on his travels. Tomorrow, memories of her would fade from his mind.
White light illuminated the arena bringing everything into focus. The brilliance served to cut through the residual fog of smoke and clarify the aftermath. Skylar’s thoughts were equally as clear.
Now that the concert had ended and the crowd had thinned out, she sat in the near-empty theater, hoping for an opportunity to see Dash. In the past two hours, she'd experienced more excitement than she had in months. Maybe years. Now that the plug had been pulled and the energy had died down to nothing, her clearer head put things into perspective—and she was still trying to make sense of it all.
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