And this is only the third song.
I can’t imagine him getting through ten.
Not to mention the two-song encore.
Their normal set is sixteen, with a three-song encore.
They scaled way back tonight, but I’m nervous about the execution.
Kingston jogs off stage when Z starts to sing “Not Going Away,” and the look he gives me is worrisome.
“I don’t know how much more I’ve got,” he admits, his voice hoarse.
“Drink this.” I hand him the concoction Devyn instructed me to have ready for him at any point in the show.
He takes a few sips and closes his eyes.
“This isn’t good,” he whispers. “I may not be able to finish.”
“Do we need to cancel the tour?”
He meets my gaze guiltily. “We might. The doc said it’ll take at least a couple of weeks for me to be back to a hundred percent. And we’ve got back-to-back shows for months...” He doesn’t have to finish his thought for me to understand how difficult this could be.
“We’ll figure that out later. Right now, you have to get through maybe four songs? We can sub in some covers and let the other guys sing them.”
He takes a breath, looking at me intently.
“Or… you could.”
I stare at him.
What the fuck is happening?
I’ve been with the band nearly ten years and they’ve never asked anything like this of me.
I was clear from day one that my life in the spotlight was over.
We agreed it would never come up again.
They know the story.
They supposedly understand how painful it is for me.
They fucking know I can’t do this.
Not for him, not for the band, not for anyone.
“We don’t have to tell them who you are,” he says, his lips close to my ear since it’s hard to hear over the music anyway. “Just our awesome manager helping out because I have a cold.” That’s the story he told the audience at the beginning of the show. Laryngitis would bring out every couch warrior doctor on social media, so it was easier to simplify things.
“I can’t.”
“You can. And it’s time. If you ask me, you need this more than I do.”
Wynter hinted at the same thing.
I glance over to where she’s watching the show, her body swaying in time to the music. She looks beautiful standing there, and I watch her for a moment, wondering what she would say if she could hear our conversation.
She catches my gaze and cocks her head curiously, a faint smile playing on her lips. I was a jerk to her today, going hot and cold like a fucking faucet on speed. She shouldn’t have pushed me so much, but I could have been more gracious.
