PROLOGUE
LIAM
The wail from Guido’s guitar rang out above the roar of the crowd as I pulled the microphone from my lips and sang out the last word to our song, “She’s Just a Dream.” My cheeks were warm and my heart pounded as the music died down. I dropped my arm to my side and turned to face the hungry fans in front of me.
Their chants were deafening as they demanded an encore.
I lifted my hands and shook my head before mouthing a thank you and goodnight.
A collective boo rippled through the crowd. I shrugged and turned to walk off the stage, pausing to glance over at Guido, Sawyer, Tom, and Jet. Then I glanced back at the crowd with a contemplative expression. The sound of 50,000 people holding their breath echoed in my ears as I glanced from the guys on my right to backstage on my left.
Then, slowly, I brought my microphone up to my lips. “I guess we might have time for one more.”
The crowd erupted into a roar twice as loud as before.
“What do you think, guys? Do we have time for one more?” I asked my bandmates.
“I got the time,” Jet said as he sat down in front of his drums.
Guido strummed a few cords. “I’ve got the time.”
Tom dragged his finger across the keyboard and pounded out the first few cords for our new song, “Dancing on Daisies.”
That was all the crowd needed. They were on their feet, cheering and singing the first few lines before Sawyer had even picked up his bass guitar.
Jet counted us in on his drumsticks, and after a few measures, I began to sing. My body moved with the music, and I took my time playing with the crowd. I walked to the left of the stage, holding out my microphone so they could sing the beginning lines to the chorus:
Dancing on daisies, in the ruins we made
Shadows behind us, but we’re not afraid
Then I made my way to the right side and did the same. The crowd finished the chorus, louder and more earnest than before.
Every step forward, a war we have braved
Dancing on daisies, unchained
We sang three more songs before the guys left their instruments and joined me center stage. We bowed in unison a few times before Jet threw his drumsticks into the crowd, and a woman caught them, triumphantly holding them in the air.
We blew kisses to the crowd as we walked backwards until we had a clear shot off stage. Once we were hidden, I blew out my breath, my cheeks hurting from smiling and singing.
“That was a great set,” Bonnie, our manager, said as she handed me an open bottle of sparkling water and a white hand towel. Everyone else had assistants who were busy handing them their post-performance necessities. Since I fired my last assistant, Bonnie had reluctantly stepped in to take care of me.
I took both from her, wiping my forehead with the towel before taking a long pull from the bottle. “Thanks,” I breathed, flashing her a wide smile.
We followed Bonnie to the green room, sidestepping dollies and cords as we went. Once inside, I collapsed on the worn leather couch, slinging my arm over the back and extending my legs out in front of me as far as they would go. I took in a few deep breaths as I tipped my head back and closed my eyes.
I was exhausted. Concerts. The band. The crowd. It used to energize me in a way that I couldn’t describe. Magic used to pulse through my veins when I was up on stage. A feeling that I would never be able to fully describe, even if I wanted to. But now, performing was my prison and the band was my executioner.
I was trapped. The freedom I once had was gone.
I only half listened to Bonnie as she went over the stats for the night. Crowd responses. Tech hiccups. Timing issues. It was the same every concert. The fans loved us. The crew tried their hardest…
“…and Liam?”
I opened my eyes and pulled my head up so I could look at her. “Hmm?”
Bonnie’s arms were crossed in front of her as she stared me down. “We’ve gone over the timing in “Say It Isn’t So” a million times.”
