“Don’t,” she said, finally drawing back.
Her hesitation pained me. “I’m sorry, Grace. For everything. This is not the way I wanted things to be.”
Grace lifted her head, looking deep into my eyes. “I know.”
“Do you? Because the tension between us…”
She cut me off. “Rory, I appreciate you trying to make things right with me, but you’re actually supposed to be on that stage right now. So, how about we focus on that, and save the apologies forafteropening night?”
I nodded.
“Now, go out there and put yourself on the team. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to walk out on the stage with that same swagger I saw from you the very first night we met. You’re going to take your seat and imagine you’re on the sidewalk and you’ve got your bucket drums all around you. And then you’re going to play like you did the night I met you, with passion and ferocity and a determination to win. Your head will be thrashing and your hands and feet will be moving at the speed of light. You’ll be in your element, and the people in the audience will cheer for you, and you’re going to be flippin’ great. It’s how I met you, Beats. I fell in love with you that night. And now you’re going to go out there and make them fall in love with you too.”
Her faith in me was contagious. And she was right. This was an opportunity; the start of a new chapter in my life. I had to make it count. Feeling the energy of her words, I turned for the door.
“And Rory?”
I looked over my shoulder.
“Turn every minute out there into a memory.”
I swooped in, grabbed the sides of her neck, and planted a deep kiss on her lips, then let her go. I pointed at her. “That was for luck.”
Grace touched her lips. The smile on her face was the first moment I was turning into a memory, and there would be a whole lot more where that came from.
I opened the door to a choir of terrified faces. No doubt they thought opening night would be taking place tomorrow. Quinn stood there, open-mouthed, holding my sticks like some delivery man.
I glanced from one person to the next before snagging them from his hands. “Okay,” I said. “I’m ready.”
His eyes widened. “Are you sure? You don’t need me to stab you with an EpiPen or anything?”
“I think that’s for allergies. But no worries. It was just nerves. Grace talked me down. Everything’s fine. Let’s go.”
We all stood there a second before Quinn said, “All right, then, huddle back up.”
Matty and Mike got into the circle, but again, I hung back. Once I proved myself worthy, I’d join them. Then three sets of arms reached over and grabbed handfuls of my shirt and dragged me in.
34
GRACE: HI. WHO’S THIS?
Hi
The text from an unknown number popped onto my screen while I was lying on the top bunk of the tour bus. It was late, too late for random text messages from strangers. The after-party had started in the green room after the show and spilled onto the tour bus afterward. It was our first night traveling together, and so far, it was all I’d imagined it to be: the music, the excitement, the screaming fans. And as the tires rolled along the open road on our way to another show, the boys partied like a proper rock band. That wasn’t to say I didn’t get caught up in the action, enough that I forgot I’d been friend-zoned by Rory, and I had a sinking suspicion that I’d accidentally groped him on the makeshift dance floor that was the narrow aisle that ran the length of the bus. God, I hoped he didn’t remember that.
Chances are he wouldn’t. Rory had had an eventful day, to say the least. Opening night was huge. No one, including security, had been expecting the kind of crowds that greeted the freshman band, but months of media focus after the shooting and several hit songs had created a frenzied atmosphere, prompting security to escort the members of Sketch Monsters to the bus while holding fans back behind hastily erected barricades. It was safe to say, the first stop on their stadium tour had gone off better than expected.
Well…
I smiled. Except maybe for Rory and his full-on breakdown seconds before the show began. Although you’d never know it from the way he recovered on stage. After the huddle broke, Rory made his way to the darkened stage, the pulse of the excited crowd vibrating at his feet. I couldn’t imagine what he must have been feeling in that moment, or the courage it had to have taken. But he did it, exactly as I’d said he would. He took his spot at the drums, twirled his sticks into oblivion, then tapped them together twice before kicking off the first beat of the first song of the rest of his life. The crowd roared as the others joined in, and the lights went up on the house.
Rory Higgins had arrived.
I was so proud of him. The significance of the moment could not be understated. He’d fought so hard to get here, from that kid on the street barely surviving to a rising star. If his teenage self could see him now! I frowned. Why did I think of him as two people—the Rory I’d once known and the man he was now? The five years of separation seemed an almost insurmountable hurdle. Or… I sighed. Maybe it was me not wanting to leave behind the boy I’d loved and embrace the man he’d become.
To be fair, I’d tried during that meeting Quinn had arranged between us weeks ago, but then Rory went and drew the line. A professional relationship? Yeah, not gonna happen. There was no middle ground. We were either lovers, or I hated him. And up until tonight, I hated him. Not just in words either. As with any unhealthy relationship, I tried to find special ways to show him how much I loathed him every single day. Small acts of hostility went a long way in conveying how I felt about his call for professionalism.
But then, tonight… he’d tipped everything on its head. The ill-timed apology. The kiss for luck. And the spray of light emanating from his drum kit. I’d been watching the show from the side of the stage, where the occasional sparkle would flash before my eyes. I observed it for several minutes, intrigued, until the stage manager passed and I waved him down. The man removed his earpiece.
