by Tara Kelly
“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…”
My lips moved along with hers as I whispered every word, my mind giving each one personal meaning. I may not have written the song, but I could add my story to it. Everyone out there could. That was what made music so powerful.
During the solo, my fingers flew up and down the fret board. Every note was breathing through me, luring me to venture past my limits. Veta followed my rhythm, dancing around me in a circle. She leaned into me as our melodies entangled and repelled each other at the same time.
The vocal break wasn’t supposed to be this long, but the guys kept up well. Bryn lightened the beat, and Sean changed up his bass line, reducing it to a couple of notes.
I dared a glance into the swelling crowd. People were dancing and moshing. Others closed their eyes and reached for the sky. Every inch of my body tingled.
I probably could’ve played like this for days. But I finished up with a high vibrato C and threw myself back into the chorus, my hair flying around my face.
Veta returned to her mic. “You rise above it all. Press my back against the wall. You spew promises you can’t keep. But I can’t hear a thing. No, no, I can’t hear a thing.” She jumped up and down with her guitar. “But your sweet…your sweet…encryption!”
Bryn ended the song with a crash, and a wave of claps and appreciative yells followed. Veta shot me a glance over her shoulder and gave me the thumbs-up. I wiped the sweat off my neck and forehead, trying to catch my breath. One thing was for sure—if I wanted to perform like this all the time, workouts were in order.
The floor was now at least twice as packed as it was before. We’d definitely gotten their attention. Now we just had to keep it.
Felix cued up the start of “Acceleration,” a high-pitched synth (or mosquito tone—according to Bryn). Felix was adorable tonight with his blue pigtails, skinny green tie, and white shirt. One hand danced in the air while the other slid across the keyboard.
Sean hammered the bass—tight, quick notes crammed into 130 bpm. He looked incredibly sexy, with one boot on his monitor and his eyes shut in concentration. But I had to stop seeing him like that. As good as touching him felt, I missed his friendship most. In some ways, he understood me better than anyone I’d ever known.
I stomped on what I called my “crusty distortion” effect and followed him with two power chords. The growl of my amp and the heat of the lights made me feel like I was on a desert road somewhere, just like the song. I imagined Sean’s car—because it was a cool car. He was going fast, letting the wind rip through his hair. No smoky air or crowds. Just me and him, watching the sunset ahead, not even needing to talk.
Veta chugged hard on her blue guitar, her hips roving from side to side. “Tight curves, raw moves. Rough you up, bend the rules. I never play nice, ’cause I made up the game.”
I pressed my EBow to the D string and let two high notes sing behind her vocals. A spotlight shone on the crowd. Arms and fists jabbed the air and mouths were open wide as if they were singing along. I got up the nerve to scan the various faces up front. It didn’t take me long to find Amy’s big hair, Teddy’s long face, and Dave’s eye glitter. Teddy was grinning, but Amy and Dave looked like their parents had dragged them to Neil Young Unplugged. Amy folded her arms, her eyes glued to Sean. Would it kill her to show him some support?
I closed my eyes again and pushed myself harder, finishing “Acceleration” with an impromptu lick that spiced up the song even more. The crowd reaction wasn’t as loud as it was for “Encryption,” but it would suffice. At least they weren’t booing or calling me Blondie.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” Veta called out. A couple of people hollered a response while others whistled.
“What’s your phone number?” a guy yelled.
Veta grinned. “I’ll never tell.” She nodded b
ehind her. “But our drummer is terminally single and listed.”
This got a bunch of girls screaming. For Bryn’s sake, and all of us who lived in his house, I hoped she was joking.
“I want your CD!” a girl called out. The thought that we were actually gaining fans, right this very minute, blew my mind.
“You can download our EP at C-Side.com now,” Veta said. “But our new album, Encrypted Lullabies, will be available from our online store August second. Remember that date, people!”
We dove into “Puppet Girl” next. It slowed the audience some, but their eyes looked wide and interested. And by the end, some of them were singing along.
Each song we did put me deeper into my zone. My fingers were slick, making me miss a note here and there, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to hide from these people—I wanted to be heard, for once, in all my raw glory.
We’d decided to save “Back-Seat Love Affair” for last again. And considering I was all about risk tonight, this song would probably take me over the edge. But the thing about the edge was, it wasn’t so scary anymore. I knew what would happen when I hit the ground. What I needed to figure out was how to jump off and stay afloat.
The intro beat—a thick kick drum—started, and for a second I wondered what would happen if I dropped my pick or screwed up this lick again. I could freeze, yes. But I could also start playing with my fingers. Or turn the screwup into a new idea.
I dove into my intro guitar part, my pick gliding between the strings in an odd rhythm. The melody echoed out to the crowd, promising something bigger. Something more. That’s when Veta and I cranked our distortion and joined Bryn in an explosion of sound, driving everyone into a fury.
Felix’s synth notes rang out like little alarms, firing up the crowd even more. Then we killed the guitars, leaving Sean and Felix to fill out the verse. Bryn played a simple beat, allowing Veta’s vocals to shine.
Veta grabbed the mic and worked the stage, extending her arms toward the crowd. “Come into my little world. Where twilight reigns and kisses taste like novocaine.” She returned to her mic stand, arching her back. “And all your plans go to waste.” She let the last word ring out before charging into the chorus. “Back-seat love affair. With that leather stare. Hardened ecstasy. You’ll never come down.”
