High on the feeling, he skip-danced across the stage to join Kit and Taylor at its center, the three of them tipping the necks of their guitars up in unison as they came in for the break. Holding onto Teo and Katie, he watched Gina jump up anddown. Matt couldn’t hear what she screamed, the mix in his in-ear monitors playing Bo’s kick and snare over a soft click track, Kit’s bass, and the boosted sound of his guitar.
“Chorus, two, three, four.”
Upon hearing the monotone cue, Matt went up to the mic, eyes locked on hers, his voice a unique harmony to Sloan’s insane baritone.
The setlist trimmed down from last summer’s headline tour, they played a dozen of their most-loved songs and closed with an instrumental version of the unreleased track that featured Bo’s sick blast beats. A sound bite of what was to come, and though the audience didn’t realize it, their positive reception was the feedback that kept the band going in the right direction.
Matt flicked a monitor out of his ear, leaving it to dangle at his neck.
“Sweet home, Chicago,” Sloan crooned to the crowd. “We love this town. Thank you.”
One more song.
One more song.
One more song.
The words echoed, repeating over and over again.
Playing a riff, Matt stepped up to the mic. “You want another one?”
And before the crowd could respond, he heard a woman shout, “Hey, Fido,” then, mocking him, she howled, “Ahoooo.”
“Left barricade,” Brendan said via the monitor that remained in his ear, not that he had to look to know who it was.
Fucking cunt bitch.
Matt glanced at Sloan, and with a wink, the lead singer grinned. “What the fuck was that pitiful wail? You’ve gotta do better than that if you want one more. Show them the beast, rhythm man.”
Expectant silence hung in the air, a single beam of murky light illuminating the fog that swirled at his feet. He took a deep breath, releasing a low, drawn-out snarl into the mic, followed by the loudest, most menacing growl he could muster.
Kit’s deep bass and Bo’s kick joined in, the crowd roaring with their approval. Then, Taylor strummed the opening chords of the encore.
“Scream, two, three, four.”
On impulse, he changed the lyrics. “Fuuuuck youuuu.”
And with the last song over, the stage went dark, the fans still chanting for more. Ripping the monitor out of his ear, he handed his guitar off to a tech. Kit handed him a beer. “Did you see the look on that bitch’s face?”
Kelsey was irrelevant to him, so he hadn’t bothered to.
Sloan high-fived him. “Smooth move. That was fucking great, man.”
Slinging his beer back, he took to the stairs. The girl who loved him waited at the bottom, and right then, the only thing Matt cared about was getting to her. He pushed past security and, ignoring the city officials and VIPs waiting to shake his hand, he sprinted right over to Gina.
“You were so—ah—”
But he didn’t let her finish. Instead, Matt scooped her up, and spinning with Gina in his arms, he kissed her.
And he didn’t stop. He kept right on kissing her until they were back inside the tent. “I love you, pizza girl.”
“Yeah? That’s a good thing,” she panted, smiling from beneath her lashes. “Conisdering I love you, too.”
In his soul, Matt already knew that, but hearing her say the words made all the difference. A flood of warmth infused his limbs as Gina nuzzled her cheek against him. She’d given him her heart and taken his. He’d get to be the one to care forher, provide for her, protect her, and support every one of her dreams.
With a tender smile, he combed the sweat-dampened hair from her face. “C’mon, let’s go home.”
“But Katie invited all of us over for drinks and nibbles.” She glanced at his dear friend’s wife and shrugged. “It’s their anniversary, I guess.”
