A knot forms in my stomach, and I take a deep breath. Having an agent opens a hell of a lot more doors.
We need this.
“You’ll be on our side after the first song. I can promise you that, Luke,” I tell him with confidence.
“Let’s hope so. Go. Finish getting ready. You don’t need to waste your pre-show time on me. We can talk after,” he says.
“Thanks for coming, Luke. Means a lot.”
“Enjoy your show,” he says, patting my arm, followed by a brief grip, offering reassurance.
I glance at Lunar, raising my brows. She loops her arm with mine, and we walk to the stage.
“Did you know he was coming tonight?” I ask.
She grins. “Only when Techie told me this afternoon. I was going to tell you, but then I thought it might make you nervous all day.”
“It definitely could have, so I appreciate you keeping it to yourself. Are you all set for the merch stand tonight?” I inquire as we approach it.
Putting everything together on such short notice was challenging, but having Techie helped. He certainly has contacts. We don’t have a lot of items, but what we do have comes at a hefty price tag due to the rush job. My bank balance is worse off, but I believe in us, and any money spent now can be recouped from sales.
“It’ll do great. I’m gonna sell the shit out of everything, just you wait and see!” Lunar chimes excitedly.
“Attagirl.”
“Are you nervous?” she asks, biting her bottom lip.
I pinch my eyebrows, deep in thought. I was initially glad to know Luke was here. But now, not so much. “No, I know how to perform. It comes naturally. I’ll be myself up there and rock out like normal. I’m a pro at this.”
“Yeah, you are. Now go. The guys look like they’re waiting for you,” she says, with a tap to my ass.
Ryan, Matt, and Nate are already set up when I turn around. I’m not going to tell them about Luke. No need for us all to have nervous energy on stage.
I jog up the black stairs and onto the stage, my dark boots pounding hard on the floor. Ryan looks at me as I step up to the mic. A few girls in the crowd cheer, and I give them my panty-dropping smile, winking at the overexcited blonde in the front row. She giggles and throws her hands in the air when I pick up my guitar and hurl the strap over my head. After I adjust the strap, I reach into my pocket for my pick.
Ryan prefers to use his fingers, claiming it’s easier to feel the strings, but I was taught to play with a pick, and I’ve stuck with it. Using a pick is like my signature move and has shaped my image in the process. It’s one of the items for sale on the merch stand tonight.
I grab the mic and look out into the sea of faces. It might only be a medium-sized bar, but it is full of people. A crowd is a crowd, and there’s nothing quite like feeling the buzz and energy emanating from them. It surges the animal inside of me and makes me feel alive.
“Hello, Adelaide. We’re Recoil, and we’re gonna rock your fucking world tonight. So hold on tight. Shit’s about to get real,” I bellow, throwing my hand in the air, giving the signal to Nate to start playing the drum intro to “Stir of Echoes.”
When the song starts, the energy surges. The crowd begins to move when Matt’s bass kicks in, the heavy droning causingvibrations through the floor. Then Ryan takes the lead as we slam on our guitars.
The heavy rock filters through the bar, reverberating off the walls and filling the space with pure, unadulterated energy. This shit ignites my soul.
I live for this.
Breathe this.
This is my life.
Music is the center of my gravity.
I’ve lived without it for so long that I could never give this up again, not for anyone or anything.
This is not just a part of me—it’s who I am.
I open my mouth, and the lyrics caress my tongue, flowing effortlessly into the mic. My deep, gravelly voice resonates around the bar, making the women melt and the men entranced. My body moves with the rhythm, my heart rate syncing with the beat while I rock along to the music. I love performing, even if it’s only at a small bar in downtown Adelaide.
