Although never one to attend concerts, let alone rise to the ranks of those allowed backstage, she could guess how things worked. The most beautiful would advance to the inner sanctum. Impress the right people, and they’d have a shot at meeting the band.Wasn’t that the ultimate prize? How many of these had overcome those hurdles in the past and scored the prize of her husband?
Her eyes narrowed as she passed buxom blondes and leggy brunettes, their tight dresses barely covering their asses and their five-inch fuck-me heels accentuating long legs. Flawless makeup and perfectly styled hair contrasted sharply against her messy bun and her work-worn mascara-less face.
What the hell had she been thinking, coming straight from the hospital?The further they traveled, the more the bimbos were draped over men, moving ever closer to their final goal.Surely, the inner sanctum had to be close?
A heavy beat thumped through the walls. A steady wave of sound pounded in her chest, felt more than heard and pulsing with a demanding rhythm. The beginnings of a headache settled behind her eyes as the roar of the crowd cascaded through the halls.
Almost ten p.m., so the concert had to be coming to an end.
Reggie ushered her through a phalanx of burly men in black pants and shirts stamped now withSecurityinstead ofCrew. Beyond them, the throng thinned, but the quality of the bimbos jumped from overly pretty to straight-out gorgeous.
Reggie finally led her to a door labeled with a single star. “In here, Mrs. Dean.”
She placed a hand on his arm. “Please stop calling me that. It’s Skye or, if you must, Dr. Summers.”
His frown radiated his displeasure, but he refrained from saying anything more. “You can leave your bag here. It’ll be safe.” He held out a hand to take her bag.
Without protest, she handed him her backpack.
“I’ll put this in a locker and then take you backstage where you can watch the rest of the show.”
Ash’s music was beyond incredible, and to see it performed live would be amazing.
Reggie kept her moving, and before she knew it, he had her climbing a short flight of metal stairs. A wave of sound crashed into her, pressing against her chest, and it made it difficult to breathe. Her ears protested the chanting of tens of thousands mixed with the heavy beat that was Angel Fire’s unique rock sound. Carrying pure emotive brilliance, Ash’s voice poured into her soul, drenching her in a wash of angst and a primal need so fierce that she wanted to scream and shout with the rest of the masses.
Her heart thumped in synchrony to Bash’s drumming. Reggie cupped her elbow and led her into the wings where she had an unobstructed view of Angel Fire onstage.
Nothing could have prepared her for the magic of the five men bonded together by music. Noodles’s fingers flew over the keyboard while Ash and Spike thrashed their guitars, leaning back-to-back, as they picked out a particularly complex riff. Bent stood left of center, feet spread wide, head hung low, his arm strumming out the reverberations of his bass guitar. Ash’s deep voice filled the concert with his tonal melody while Spike backed him up on vocals.
“Wow!” She raised her voice to be heard above the thundering noise.
“Fuck yeah.” Reggie leaned close to yell into her ear, “Your brother’s over there!”
Forest stood at the edge of the stage, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. His hair hung loose down his back, a white cloud of frenetic energy, as he banged his head to the beat. His entire body pulsed from the excitement of watching his favorite band, up close and personal.
She hurried to him. “Bean!”
His arctic gaze turned to her. “You’re late.” His rumbly voice carried easily, despite the noise.
Lifting up on her tiptoes, she raised her voice. “My shift ran long. How’s the concert going?”
His teeth flashed white with his grin. “Fucking awesome. It’s almost over though. You missed the whole show.”
She could lecture him on the relative importance of saving lives compared to watching a concert, but that would be wasted breath. She focused instead on the guitar-wielding rock god belting out the chorus to one of Angel Fire’s original hits. The audience roared and joined Ash as he sang the chorus.
Spike rocked the guitar, lending vocal support, as Ash grabbed the microphone. The phrasesex on a stickcame to her mind as he played to the crowd.
Her attention shifted across the stage and landed on those hidden out of sight, like herself. Stagehands and security lined the edges, an ever-present dark sea of support. Interspersed among them were the women who screamed and gyrated with the beat of the music, hoping to garner the attention of the men onstage.
A look at her crumpled scrubs had her spirits deflating. This was not her world. Everyone around her was partying, amped on adrenaline, where all she wanted was a bed. Hell, she’d settle for a couch, something she could collapse into and forget the day.
The pounding music increased the throbbing in her head.
Onstage, a spotlight illuminated Ash, and he tilted his head back, that beautiful voice hammering out lyrics to the frenzy of Bash’s beat. The band was on fire, and the crowd amplified the energy the band poured out, feeding it back to them. She’d never experienced anything like it, and while everyone around her fed off the combined energy, each pulse drained her last reserves.
Just as she was about to ask Reggie to take her back, Ash turned, picking her out of the dimness. His face lit up with joy, and he gave Spike a fist-bump.
As Spike, Bent, Noodles, and Bash carried the music, Ash swung his guitar to his back and ran to swoop her into a hug.
