by Kim Holden
The music is just sound, noise in my ears, for the first several songs. I let it fill me. It numbs like the tequila I’m currently drowning in. I’m not even looking at the stage. I feel like a fucking sicko but I can’t take my eyes off Katie. Her back is to me, only inches away, and the way she moves to the music has me stretching my usual fantasies to extreme levels. Visions of ripping her clothes off and taking her ten different ways right here in front of everyone fill my head.
The songs are running together, but soon the haze lifts a little and the cacophony turns into words and guitars and drums. My anger begins to burn off with the alcohol. Maybe it’s the indecent thoughts I’ve been having about her, or maybe it’s just the fact that’s it’s Katie and I don’t think anyone could ever really be mad at her, or maybe it’s just that I’m standing so damn close to her that I realize I shouldn’t take my time with her for granted.
The next song is a slow ballad. The rest of the band has left the stage and the singer has switched out his electric guitar for an acoustic one. I have to admit that this guy is talented. The song is sad, and even though my drunken mind can’t make out every word, I know it’s about losing someone you care for. It’s obvious the song is personal; his voice is stripped down and wounded. It feeds some deep longing in me, and I can’t help reaching for physical contact. I rest my hands on Katie’s hips, and when she doesn’t object, I splay my fingers and slowly slide them across her stomach. The tips of my thumbs brush the underside of her breasts and my pinkies drag along the waistband of her jeans. Her T-shirt is thin; I can feel what she looks like underneath. She leans back into me and lets me hold her. Her palms smooth over my forearms and fire tears a path across my skin.
I must be losing my fucking mind. Everything was simple before I met her. I did everything I was supposed to, when I was supposed to, how I was supposed to. And now? Now I have my arms wrapped around her. And she has a boyfriend. And she’s gorgeous. I can’t stop obsessing about her and I’m two seconds away from doing something really foolish.
One second …
I can’t stop.
I rest my chin gently on top of her head and let my cheek skim down her waves. I inhale deeply. She smells so good. Her body stills, but her arms don’t release mine. I take that as permission. I burrow just beneath her ear and run the tip of my nose shamelessly up and down her neck. My heart is pounding and I know she feels it. One of her hands drops and wraps itself around the back of my upper thigh just below my ass. Her head drops slightly to one side allowing me better access. I press my body into her. She presses back. The advanced, physical state of my arousal should be embarrassing in this crowd of people, but I’m too drunk and turned on to care. Besides, we’re packed in here like sardines and everyone’s focused on the stage. No one else will notice. My lips press against her neck. It’s warm and soft and dewy. I could devour her. I release her from my lips and just as the tip of my tongue makes contact, the hottest moment of my life comes to an abrupt end.
The song is over and the crowd erupts into deafening applause, which puts everyone in motion. We’re torn from the moment by simple physics, a chain reaction of movement, one body against the next.
Dunc elbows me and when I catch his eye he raises his eyebrows and smiles. The bastard sees everything.
Katie looks back at me. The corner of her bottom lip is captured between her teeth. Her darkened eyes search mine before they settle on my mouth. My heart stutters.
Shel, who’s been pounding beers all night and is as drunk as I am, proves to be my buzzkill. She’s jumping up and down like a teenager on crack, hugging Katie and slurring something about how much she loves that song and how hot the singer is.
The nail in the coffin comes when the rest of the band takes the stage again and the singer takes off his sweat soaked T-shirt while he’s swapping out his guitar. Every female in the building screams, except Katie who’s shaking her head and smiling. The heightened energy in the crowd seems to be carrying her further from me.
The singer takes the microphone from the stand and motions for the crowd to quiet down. They do. I have to give the douchebag props; he’s owned the crowd all night. He’s got them eating out of his hand. “We have one last song for you tonight. Unfortunately, when we perform this song live, it sounds nothing like the version on the album because you’re stuck with my shitty voice singing every word.” Laughter rumbles through the crowd, and he raises his hands to hush them again. “You see, we have this very talented friend who has the voice of a goddamn angel. She’s the one that makes this song so special, but as you can see,” he gestures back to his bandmates, “she’s not in the band.” The crowd is in a frenzy because they know the song he’s talking about. So do I. It’s “Killing the Sun.” They’ve been playing the hell out of it on the college station and it’s a good song, but he’s right; the woman’s voice is what makes it. It’s the kind of voice you feel in your bones. It’s sexy; vulnerable and confident at the same time.
After another pause to quiet the crowd, he continues. “Well, I have some good news for you, Grant.” He looks back at the drummer and though he’s not talking into the mic the words are picked up for all of us to hear, “Dude, she’s gonna be so fucking pissed at me.” And back to the audience, “She’s in the building, and I’m really hoping she’ll come up and sing with us tonight.” The crowd cheers, whistles, stomps.
We’re about thirty feet from the stage and I can’t help but notice he’s staring in our general direction.
“Come on, Bright Side, don’t make me beg.” He drops to his knees and clasps his hands in front of his broad, bare, muscled chest. The guy looks like Thor from the movies. “Please … please … ” He motions to the crowd to join in his pleas. They do. Everyone in the building is begging now, me included, because with a voice like that I want to see what this woman looks like.
He shakes his head and laughs. “Okay, you asked for it. You can come up here on your own or I’m coming out to get you. It’s your choice.” His crosses his massive arms over his chest and pauses a few seconds. “I warned you.” Without hesitation, he drops the microphone and jumps down off the stage, climbs over the railing holding back the masses, and makes his way through the crowd. Of course every woman wants to touch him so his progress is slow, but when he finally stops he’s standing in front of Clayton, who looks like he’s about to pass out. That’s when I notice that Katie is crouched down behind Clayton, as if trying to hide. He reaches around Clayton and taps Katie on the shoulder. When she looks up, he’s crooking his finger at her.
She shakes her head. “Not gonna happen, dude,” she yells.
“Come on, Bright Side. I really don’t wanna make a scene.”
She straightens and squares off against him. “It’s a little fucking late for that, don’t you think?”
He looks around. Every eye in the place is on him. He shrugs. “Probably.” The words are no sooner out of his mouth than he’s reached around Clayton and thrown her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing. Her body goes limp as she concedes defeat.
What.
The.
Hell?
I look around, and everyone in Katie’s group of friends is confused. At least I’m not the only one. She sings? How did this never come up? She’s on the fucking radio! Why didn’t she tell us?
By now, he’s lifting her up on the stage and climbing up behind her. The bass player walks up and puts his arm around her while the singer adjusts his microphone down to her level. When he’s done she approaches and looks out at the crowd. The mic picks up what she thinks is a private conversation, “Oh. Shit. Would you look at all these people?”
The drummer calls out, “Don’t fuck this up, Kate.”
She flips him off without turning around to face him. He laughs. She’s got attitude—I love that about her.
The singer slings his guitar strap across him and takes his place at a microphone a few feet from her. He’s grinning at her like he’s enjoying the hell out of
this. She scowls back, but there’s a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I’m gonna fucking kill you. You know that, right?”
The audience laughs and cheers, waiting to see what happens. As the singer strums the first chords of the song, he says, “Just wait until after the song, Bright Side, then I’m all yours.”
Maybe it’s all the alcohol in my system, but what follows is like a surrealistic dream. As the music builds, Katie looks so small, yet so powerful up there. Every time she opens her mouth her eyes flutter closed and she brings forth this unbelievably massive wave of sound that washes over me. It’s the sonic equivalent of great sex. The song is about living and loving in an infinite moment. Treating this night as if it’s your last and you can make it last forever. You can chase away the morning, the end, by killing the sun. It’s an anthem. The crowd is jumping, moshing, singing. The energy in this place is insane. Thousands of people are living through the song, through its words.
And each and every one of them is in love with Katie. She’s given herself over to them. She’s lost in it. After she sings her last verse, she backs away from the microphone stand, trying to take the attention away from herself I’m sure. She kind of bounces in place to the beat. She’s watching the rest of the band with an open-mouthed smile, like she doesn’t want to miss a second of what’s happening around her. That’s one of the best things about Katie; she never takes anything for granted. She appreciates it all.
The drummer and bass player join in to sing the last few lines of the song with the lead singer. The harmony is right on, and Katie’s smile widens as she watches them.
The moment the song is lost to silence the singer’s shouting into the microphone, “Let’s hear it for my girl!” He runs over, shifting his guitar to his back and lifts her into a hug, swinging her around. She holds on tight. She’s laughing. It feels wrong to watch them—too personal—too private. But I can’t look anywhere else.
My heart sinks again. Of course, this is the guy she was at Grounds with. A fucking rock star. How am I supposed to compete with that? The anger and hurt creeps back in again. I hate it, but I’m jealous as hell.
The band shouts out words of thanks and leaves the stage and when the masses are satisfied that there will be no encore, they begin to disperse. Katie is standing on the floor in front of the stage, but behind the barricade, waiting for us. Two big security guards are standing in front of her and won’t let the crowd near her.
Now that we can all hear each other, introductions are made back and forth between the friends Katie has gathered. I’m polite, but so pissed I can’t remember their names two seconds after I hear them. After everyone agrees Katie stole the show and that they had no idea she had this secret identity we head over as a group to congratulate her. Well, the rest of group congratulates her. I’m pissed, and horny, and drunk, and completely in awe; it’s a bad combination. I can’t look at her.
We all show our VIP tickets and are cleared through security to follow her backstage. She has no idea where she’s going, but Shel is hell-bent on meeting the guy I would love to punch in the goddamn face.
We run into the drummer. His head is shaved bald and his arms are covered in tattoos. The guy would look threatening if he wasn’t constantly smiling. He hugs Katie. “Kate, you sounded like shit. Thanks for ruining the whole fucking show.”
She smiles devilishly. “And your beats sucked ass, dude. Clearly this playing every night thing isn’t working for you.”
He laughs. “I miss having you around, girl.” He plants a kiss on top of her head before he releases her.
She introduces us to him. His name’s Frank or Fred, I don’t know. I’m too drunk and pissed to care.
He gestures to a door down the hall when she asks where the rest of the band is. The door leads outside behind the auditorium. There’s a tour bus parked with its engine running. The douchebag is leaning up against a wall smoking a cigarette. When he sees Katie, his fucking face lights up like it’s Christmas. He drops the cigarette, steps on it, and walks our way.
What happens next is a blur of emotion, alcohol, and disregard. In no particular order:
Introductions. He’s her best friend, Gus. The guy she’s known her whole life. The guy she told me she fucking slept with before she moved here. I really hate him now.
Photos and autographs for the others.
Shel projectile vomits next to the bus.
Clayton and his friend and the other guy and girl leave.
Gus wraps his arms around Katie. (It should be me with my arms around her.)
He tells her how amazing she was tonight. (It should be me.)
He tells her how proud he is of her. (It should be me.)
He tells her how much he misses her. (I miss her and she’s standing five feet from me.)
The driver opens the door of the bus and hollers, “Gustov, train’s leaving in two minutes.”
She’s wearing a sad smile. She doesn’t want him to leave. Seeing that smile is killing me.
He squeezes her tight and kisses her forehead. “Thanks, Bright Side. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.”
When she answers, “I love you, too, Gus.” I come undone.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were with him?” My voice sounds strangled and desperate. Is this really me?
“What?” She’s confused. “Gus and I aren’t together.”
He releases her.
I step toward her. “You are such a terrible liar,” I say, too loudly.
She’s jerked from sight and I’m suddenly chin-to-chest with him. “No one fucking talks to her like that.” It’s a threat if I’ve ever heard one.
I want him to punch me. Put me out of my misery. So I narrow my eyes and taunt, “I wasn’t talking to you, bro.” I can be such a prick when I’m drunk.
His patience with me is wearing thin, I can feel it. “You don’t know me. Don’t fucking bro me.”
And there’s my in. “Blow me.”
My shirt is now balled up in his fist. “What the fuck did you just say?”
Before I can answer, someone’s restraining me from behind. It’s not until I hear Dunc’s loud, steady voice in my ear, “That’s enough, Banks,” that I make the correlation between the vise-like hold on my biceps and the fact that I’m being backed away from this disaster my mouth started. My T-shirt splits down the center and I’m yanked free of Gus’s grasp. All the while Dunc continues trying to talk some sense into me. “Chill out, man. You’re done here.”
Katie’s in front of me again. “He’s my best friend, Keller. What’s the problem?” She’s not mad, but she looks hurt.
I cough out a crazed laugh. “What’s the problem?” I lower my voice so only she can hear me. “The problem is I don’t fuck my best friends.” Her face drops. I have her attention and I know I should shut up but my mouth keeps spewing, “Kinda blurs the lines, doesn’t it?” Dunc’s dragging me away and I’m not fighting him anymore. I point at him. “You win, bro.” My voice sounds choked. I repeat myself. “You win.” The anger rises in me again as I admit defeat. “She’s all yours.”
The next thing I know, I’m in the Green Machine. Shel’s passed out on a beanbag in the back. Dunc reams me out the entire drive home. I’m in no mood to hear it.
That’s about all I remember before I pass out in my bed, but not before puking all over it.
Sunday, October 30
(Keller)
If there’s an award for World’s Biggest Asshole, last night I won it hands down. I feel like shit.
After Dunc wakes up we grab a couple of cups of coffee from Grounds and sit down in the privacy of our apartment for a heart-to-heart.
“Keller, man, what was that last night? I mean, I know you’ve got a thing for Kate, but that was so out of line. That wasn’t you. I’ve never seen you like that.” He’s not scolding so much as he’s just talking.
“I know,” I say, looking straight into my coffee cup.
“Have you talked to her this
morning?”
I shake my head, which causes a sharp pain to crash through my skull. The thought of it terrifies me. I owe her an apology, but I can’t talk to her yet. I’m not mad at her. I’m mad as hell at me. I don’t want her to feel my anger again, even if it’s not directed at her.
“She was here last night, you know?”
This is news to me. “What? Katie came here?”
“Yeah, she showed up about thirty minutes after we got home.”
Great. I was passed out in a pool of my own vomit. That speaks volumes.
“She was worried about you.”
“She was worried about me?”
He nods. “We talked for a long time. She cares about you, Keller. She hated seeing you so upset.”
I drop my throbbing head in my hands. “I treated her like shit, Dunc. I treated her like shit and she doesn’t want me to be upset.” I laugh at how ass-backwards the whole screwed up situation is.
“I know you sabotage any potential relationship because of what happened with Lily, but it’s been almost four years. I loved her too, man, but it’s time.”
I grind the heels of my hands into my burning eyes. Hearing her name today doesn’t make me ache like it used to. “What about Stella?”
He raises his eyebrows like he doesn’t have an answer for me. “Listen Banks, it’s your life, but Kate is a really good person. She’s been so good for Shelly—you’ve seen the change in her since she’s been hanging around Kate. Shelly’s crazy about her, which means I’m crazy about her. But after talking to her last night, I can honestly say Kate’s probably one of the most caring and genuine people I’ve ever met. She’s the real deal, man. I asked a lot of questions and she answered every one. She didn’t have to do that … but she did. She and Gus have a very close relationship, but I believe her when she says they’re just friends. She’s known the guy her entire life—”
“She also slept with him,” I interrupt.