At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.
9
Riot
Saturday…
I stand at the edge of the sidewalk, pulling long drags from my cigarette as I watch hundreds of suits and ladies in elaborate ball gowns clamor to be the first through the glass-paned doors of the Neon Valley Music Hall. I’ve been here for the past half hour, frozen to this corner. Torn between the desire to watch Eloise play and the knowledge that this is a terrible, awful idea.
I’mjust curious. That’s it. I simply want to see what all the hype is about.
I tell myself it’s harmless, that nothing will come of this. Even though I know it’s a lie, it makes me feel a little better about what I’m going to do.
Before I can change my mind, I stub my cigarette under the heel of my boot and walk up to the ticketing booth, giving the surly-looking man seated behind the glass a friendly smile.
I go to speak, but the man simply holds up a hand, his eyes narrowed in disgust as he takes in my many facial piercings and shadow-lined eyes. “I’m sorry, but no.”
“No, what?”
“No, you cannot purchase a ticket. We’re sold out.”
“Really?”
“Yes,really,” he says with a sneer. “You should try purchasing your tickets in advance next time.” He rakes his eyes down my person, lip curling at the sight of my leather jacket and ripped black denim. “And I suggest you arrive with a more appropriate outfit. We havestandardshere.”
Ooh. Snooty Magoo alert.“Right. Well, I’ll let you get back to… Whatever it is you’re doing.”
I turn on my heel and walk back into the crowd, deciding what to do next. I could come back next week, but I’m already here and anxious to see Eloise play. The longer I think about it, the more I realize giving up just isn’t an option tonight.
Then I spot a couple standing at the edge of the crowd, their heads lowered in what appears to be a heated debate.Trouble in paradise? Perfect time to swoop in and try to snag a ticket.
I stride up to the pair with a wide grin, trying to appear more welcoming than I seem at first glance. “Hey there! Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering?—”
“Oh. My.God!Are you Riot Arden? You are, aren’t you?” The woman claps her hands together excitedly, her scowl giving way to a look of awe. “Randy, it’s Riot Arden!”
“I see that, Sonia dear.” The man—Randy—gives his wife a disgruntled look before turning his attention back to me. “Sorry about that. She’s a big fan of your music.”
“Always nice to meet a fan.” The way Randy’s wife is eye-fucking me right in front of him is making me a little nervous. I’m a scrappy guy, but Randy looks like he used to be a linebacker, and my odds of winning that fight are slim to none.
I clear my throat. “Listen, I hate to ask, but I just found out the show was sold out, and I really,reallyneed a ticket. Is there any way I could buy one from you guys?” It’s a long shot, but fuck, it’s worth a try. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars for it.”
To my surprise, Randy lets out a bark of laughter. “I’m afraid that wouldn't even buy you a seat in the parking lot.” He tilts his head, amusement shining in his eyes. “For six? That, I’d think about.”
“How about ten?”
Randy considers my offer for a moment. I think he’s about to tell me no, but then Sonia pinches the back of his arm, not-so-quietly whispering something in his ear that sounds like, “It’s Riot freaking Arden! Don’t you dare ruin this for me!”
With a frown, Randy shrugs. “I didn't want to sit through this thing anyway. Enjoy yourself.”
I wire the money to him, and he passes me his ticket—sixth row back from the stage—which is the perfect distance to watch Eloise while staying out of her direct view. I’m so lucky, I don’t even care that I’ll have to sit next to Sonia and endure her hungry stares. It’ll be worth it to watch Eloise play.
Sonia and Randy return to their hushed conversation while I head into the concert hall, ignoring the curious stares and occasional looks of disgust from the Neon Valley elite as I make my way to my seat.
My eyes scan the stage, taking in the many faces of the orchestral group sitting in a half-circle around the grand Steinway. Each person is dressed in tailored black suits, blending into the background of the vast wood-paneled stage, their faces gaunt beneath the heavy stage lights. Eloise is absent, but the excited buzz of the packed auditorium tells me she’ll make her appearance soon.
As soon as I sit, the theater lights dim, flashing twice to signal the rest of the audience to do the same, and the chatter dies down, replaced by a collective shuffling of bodies, hushed whispers, and the occasional cough.
As the last of the attendees settles down, the oboe emits a single note, followed by the moans of various instrumentscoming to life. The sound fills the hall with a discordant yet familiar swell as they find the perfect pitch, and I sit up straighter in anticipation, watching the wings hungrily for any sign of Eloise.
