“Oh, this is the chick you talked to outside?” Reed asks him. He bends slightly like he’s trying to see the tattoos on my arms. “Oh shit, yeah. Those are awesome tattoos.”
“Thanks.” I look at Zeb. “You were talking about me backstage?”
He shrugs. “I told you. You seemed cool,” he replies.
“So, you know our music?” Mads asks, getting back to business.
“It’s all she plays,” Mira practically shouts from the front of the audience.
I smile her way as the crowd begins to get restless. A few people begin chanting their name, some already booing them. I shove past Zeb and shift some of the kit that the bouncers just stood up instead of putting back in place after Rad fell. Reed quickly puts his microphone in the stand and helps me while Zeb and Mads chat—and I wonder if Zeb is having to convince Mads to take a chance on this.
Once the kit is arranged, I push my bag over my head and grab two sticks from inside, then take a seat on the stool.
The guys look at me like I’ve lost my mind, and I can’t say that I blame them.
“Come on,” I say, adjusting the seat. “What do you have to lose? It’s me or you don’t play at all.”
A smirk licks at Reed’s lips, and he peers between Mads and Zeb as the audience gets louder. “What the hell,” he says.
“I vote yes,” Zeb agrees. He strums a couple notes on his guitar and grins my way. “You’re pretty fucking ballsy jumping onstage with strangers.”
“My balls are bigger than yours, and you’re going to have to get me a better stool with more support after this,” I tell him.
Zeb laughs. “Yeah. Okay. Let’s see what you’re made of first, Bedlam.”
My brow quirks. “Bedlam?”
“Yeah. You come in here, cause a little confusion, a little mayhem. You’re fucking Bedlam walking.” He glances at Mads, and I realize the masked bassist is staring at me with those intense green eyes. Zeb steps up to Reed, who’s ready to announce that they’re starting again. However, Mads keeps watching me.
And I don’t know why I almost stop breathing when he approaches the kit.
“Set list is on your left,” he says. “You need anything?”
Shit. What am I doing?Am I seriously sitting on this stool right now?!
I’m suddenly nervous.
Fuck.
“Shot of vodka because I can’t believe I just jumped on this stage,” I mutter, though the room is already closing in around me.
I hear him chuckle. “Yeah. That makes two of us.” He reaches to the ground and grabs a water bottle, then hands it to me. “Emergency liquid,” he says as I take it from him.
The vodka burns the back of my throat, and I make a face. “Ugh, you have the shit vodka,” I groan.
He chuckles again. “You ready for this?”
I take another drink and let the chills run over my shoulders. A full breath leaves me. I straighten, crack my neck, and feel the sticks between my fingers.
I can do this.
I know their music.
I’ve watched them perform a thousand times online.
You got this.
My eyes meet Mads'. “Let’s fucking go.”
