“As we said, the night sold out quickly. We’ll be at capacity, but we’ve rearranged some things to better accommodate the crowd. Would you like to taste the signature Limelight Margarita for tonight?”
“Hell yeah!” Derrick cries.
“Later,” Mila warns him. “Please just show us where to set up, and we’ll get started.”
“Great.” Arriane turns and waves at a ripped dude behind the bar. “Christian, can you come over here a minute?”
The guy slings the rag he’d been using over his shoulder and approaches with a confident smile. “Christian runs the bar and helps manage things around here. If you need anything at all tonight, he’s your man.”
“Good to meet you,” he says. “Get me a list of your drinks, and I’ll be sure to keep you stocked.”
“Thanks, man,” Parker says.
He nods.
“Oh my god!”
Our ears bleed from the loudest shriek in the history of sound. We turn toward the wail to find an adorable blonde-haired pixie who couldn’t possibly have projected such volume. The guy behind her snickers as he tries to hold her back.
“It’s Limelight! They’re, like, supernovas!”
“Superstars, Inga.”
“Whatever. A nova is a star.”
“Okay, but—”
“Ahh!” She tears away from her captor and bolts across the room toward us. “I’m Ingela,” she announces. “Inga. Yes, call me Inga. I love you guys! When Arriane said you were coming I lost my shin!”
“Your shit,” the guy mutters, approaching behind her. “You lost your shit.”
She shoots an annoyed look to her (boyfriend?), and crosses her arms. “Shut up, Cameron. You’re just jealous because I said I’d leave you for Jesse. Didn’t I?” She stares right at me. “I did. I would.”
“You would not,” Cameron grunts.
Her glare melts into affection as she throws herself into his arms with a thud. He lets out an oomph and barely catches her. “You’re right. You’re my eleven-incher. But I’d do both of you. You always wanted a threesome, right, baby?”
My night just got very interesting, apparently, and I haven’t said a word. Mila’s gaze creeps over my face as I maintain oblivion. I’d crawl through a pit of poisonous spiders before reacting to that offer.
“Thank you for your support, Inga, but if you don’t mind we have a lot of setup to do,” Mila says like the professional she is. Also, no threesomes with my boyfriend, thank you. That look is for me, and I shrug with a grin. Not sure how I’m in trouble for a conversation I’m not even in.
“Inga, Cam, please finish setting up the patio.” Arriane points her employees toward the glass door. “Sorry about that,” she mutters to us. “You will love them by the end of the night, I promise. Okay, again, if you need anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask myself, Leon, or any of the staff. While you’re setting up, I’ll check on the refreshments and make sure your green room is ready.”
I glance at the guys and their faces mirror mine. Yep, it’s good to feel like rock stars again.
∞∞∞
The night lives up to the hype. The lights, the haze, Jay blasting us through the stratosphere, it’s no wonder the crowd is going ape-shit for our music; I’m a freaking animal in this cloud.
Everything about this moment is right, and it’s not the present but the future that has me wound to a new notch of energy. We could do this every day. We’re on the doorstep of dreams, and the best part? I’m here for completion, not escape. Running to, not from, makes all the difference as I pull the mic from the stand and yank the crowd into my ecstasy.
“My reaction time is lacking
No backtracking now that you’ve got me on the prowl
Hey hey
I’m looking at you, traitor, faker, promise-breaker,
Rearranger of the lies we’ve tried to bury
Hey hey”
Voices rise up in unison to lyrics they can’t possibly know but feel the urge to sing anyway. Bodies rock together with my words, the bass pumping EDM waves beneath adrenaline-fueled drops from the track. At the last one, a cheer erupts with the lights when the music jumps back to life. Damn, even I have chills.
This college club crowd is the perfect vessel for our music, and I know Mila will be gloating plenty. She’s up in the booth now, grabbing as much bootleg footage as she can. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s planted pros throughout the room for some real film.
This is the magic musicians talk about. I never thought it could be mine, but here we are: sweat dripping down our faces, music blaring through a veil of exhilaration so pungent we’ve all been transported to a higher plane. This is the moment where life, legend, and love combine into an irresistible mantle of hope.
It’s happening.
Lights flash blues, whites, and yellows.
It’s actually happening!
My eyes connect with Parker who returns a grin that tells me everything. We’ve made it, bro. After a lifetime of fighting through the darkness, we’ve finally pushed through into the light. Parker and Jesse, two names that are more than case files and entries in the foster system. More than hungry children and forgotten youth. This is what life feels like. This is what joy feels like. I want this, my reason to fight.
Parker launches into the intro of “Agitator,” and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m excited for tomorrow.
∞∞∞
The green room Leon and Arriane set up for us is great, but we find ourselves gravitating toward the main area of the club after the guests go home. How could we possibly hide in a back room with the vibrant personalities floating around Smother? We have a blast with the staff who seem more intent on drawing out the party than clearing it.
Parker and I chill on barstools watching that chick Inga tear up the dancefloor to a phantom song in her head. Her boyfriend is helping with the makeshift stage when he’s beckoned to the floor by her ear-splitting demand to “get his groovy on!”
Even Leon cringes and interrupts his conversation with Mila to shoot an irritated look in her direction. Arriane points Cameron to the dance floor, probably to keep his girl under control more than anything.
The entire circus is beyond entertaining.
“You know, if the music thing doesn’t work out, I’d take a job here,” I say, swallowing a mouthful of club soda and lime. As delicious as those bottles of tequila look, I don’t trust myself yet, and Christian has stayed true to his word and kept us well hydrated—me with seltzer—all night.
“Think they have space for two employees?” Parker asks. “You’re not leaving the band without me.”
“Better make that three,” I say, pointing to the dance floor where Derrick has another employee attached to his hip. “We can’t expect him to fend for himself.”
“What about Reece?”
“Gina has him covered, right?”
We exchange a smirk and relax into the moment. The night was perfect. The club, the vibe, the crowd, everything was exactly what we needed to boost our current hype. Once Mila edits and posts the footage, we’ll have our pick of futures, she says.
My heart swells at the gift of this moment. I’m right where I’m supposed to be with the people who matter. With the three of us together, there’s no chance in hell we won’t find our way.
“We did it, bro,” I say quietly. “No matter what happens next, we already did it.”
He turns and flashes the joy he’s always deserved. How many times have I stripped it away from him, and he still stood there, tall, alone, against the storm? God, I stole so much from the one person who gave me everything.
And yet he’s the one who says, “I’m proud of you, man. Proud of us. We did this. Jesse and Parker. Life tried to break us and we kicked its ass.”
I smile back. “We did. Ready to make history?”
“Let’s do it.”
I hold up my glass. “To kicking life’s ass.”
; He clinks it with his bottle. “To kicking life’s ass.”
∞∞∞
Mila hasn’t stopped talking since we walked out of the club, rode in the van, checked into our hotel, and found our rooms. She’s bursting with details about this PR company, that blogger, this label, and that promoter. She already has us doing stadium tours on the moon, and I’m too turned on by the excitement on her face to dash it with a hit of Jesse Everett Realism.
She’s the best kind of dreamer. Intelligent, driven, and connected, her dreams are goals, not fantasies, and if my alabaster queen has us going platinum by this time next year, who am I to argue? What I can’t tolerate is the amount of clothes she has on.
“I’ve already sent a message to my contact at—”
The rest comes out muffled against my lips. I back her into the closed door of our room.
“Can you be my girlfriend for a few hours? Just a few.” I grab her perfect ass and shove her into me. She gasps out a surprised moan, and I love that it takes so little for me to distract her.
“Jess, I have to…” She full-on whimpers as I hike that tantalizing dress up her thighs for better access.
“What’s that, babe? I missed that.”
“Shush your mush,” she breathes.
I pull back and snort a laugh. “What?” My grin earns me a playful slap. “Shush your what?”
“Mush! Argh. You heard me, you arse.”
“I thought I was a wanker?” I try for the accent and cover my face to block the blows.
“Tosser. Dickwad. Prick. Twat!”
I lock her wrists to stop the assault, and she erupts in giggles as I pull her onto the bed.
“How about fit as fuck?” I tease, securing her on top of me.
Her nose wrinkles as she shoves my shoulders, then softens into intoxicating alignment with my body. “I prefer lover,” she says, singeing my lips with a hungry kiss.
A groan rumbles from my own throat. This woman… “Okay, you win. Claim your prize.” I pull off my shirt with a playful smirk.
“Arse,” she mutters again, and shoves me back to the mattress.
∞∞∞
I stare at the passing cars, trees, all the interesting things that fly by a back window when you’re in a van going 70mph. Mila is still “updating” us on the upcoming everything she’s booked in the last twenty-four hours. That woman can get more done over a continental breakfast than I accomplish in a decade. I have no clue what she sees in my lazy ass—besides the fact that it’s fit as fuck.
Thing is, I’m happy. Yeah, I said it. I’m freaking content.
“What’s so funny?” she inserts mid-sentence into whatever news I was ignoring.
I glance over, making no attempt to hide my smile. “Nothing.”
“Not nothing. You’re grinning.”
“Can’t a guy be happy?”
Her eyes narrow into a skeptical appraisal. “Not you. What is it?”
“Seriously, Mila. I wouldn’t push it,” Parker calls back. “He’s probably thinking about your boobs.”
“Shut up,” I laugh. “I am,” I say to her just to get the smack she lays into my arm.
“Ouch.” I rub my bicep with way more gusto than necessary, and she rolls her eyes.
“Don’t be a sissy.”
“A sissy? That’s not what you said last night.”
Her glacial eyes grow to their full size as snickers scatter throughout the van.
“Jesse Everett!”
But she’s not too mad. “I love seeing you like this,” she whispers.
“Like what?”
“Like—”
“Fuck!”
The last thing I remember is screeching breaks and the darkest basement in Hell.
27: VOIDS
“We did everything we could.”
No! Bullshit! What’s everything? What the fuck is everything?!
I stagger to a chair, shrug off the useless hands reaching for my shoulders. Numb fingers comb through my hair as I process nothing. Everything! I don’t fucking know. How can you know?!
Whispers scratch the air around me, and I clamp my eyes shut. Try to control my breathing.
Don’t they know?
Someone fix this. Tell them it’s supposed to be me. Tell them how they got it wrong.
No, no, no. My head is shaking, the numbness in my limbs sparks into tingles and shallow breaths.
You bastards took the wrong brother! How can you not understand that? Fix it! God, please fix it! Please!
I can’t breathe.
I’m going to be sick.
I clutch my stomach and barely make it to the trash can before my gasps become retches. Suddenly, I’m the center of attention. Stealing from my brother even in death.
Selfish bastard. But oh god, there’s no air in here.
My eyes search for him. My rock, my sanity for twenty-three years. Parker, I need you! Please please please. Oh god! I can’t. It can’t—
Arms guide me to a gurney. I hear words like anxiety attack and other phrases that make it sound like keeping me alive is important. Why didn’t they care this much about saving the worthy brother? The necessary one? The strong one who dreamed and believed and fought enough to pull us through hell and back?
Why are they wasting resources on me?!
I throw up again.
“Jesse, you have to breathe. Deep breaths, hon.”
Sobs wrack my body, sucking the little air that’s left from my lungs.
Everyone leaves!
You promised! You fucking promised me!
I hate you!
My fists pound my eyes.
“He promised! He promised he wouldn’t leave!” That voice can’t be mine. The pain in those words draw echoing tears from other eyes. I feel them burn my skin as more arms fold around me.
“Jesse.” This voice is familiar, laced with pain too. Trembles with loss and fear.
“I did everything he wanted. I followed the rules. The list. I did everything…”
“I know, love. I know.”
“You don’t understand. I can’t do this without him,” I plead, turning into her embrace.
“You can. I promise.”
“No promises. Don’t make promises.”
Life tried to break us and we kicked its ass.
Fuck life. Fuck promises. A cry explodes from me as I rip myself away from Mila and bolt for the exit.
∞∞∞
One smile you could hold onto.
I run. Legs stumbling along a blind path.
One embrace that made things okay.
One heart that forgave.
Believed.
Sacrificed and fought to give you a future you didn’t deserve.
A ragged hiss of air burns through the hole in my chest. Another. In-through-out. In-through-out. Never lingering long enough to soothe the swell of panic.
One giant void that will…
Ache.
Shake.
Break you into the nothing that you are.
You’re the traitor, faker, promise-breaker and you’re not enough!
Not enough.
Never enough against fate’s prank to take
The one person not afraid to hope.
Nope, you’re the joke, Jesse Everett. The tragic hoax no one wants to touch without the protection of Parker’s connection. Because he’s the sun and you’re the one
Afraid of light.
Scars reopen.
Fester and bleed!
I cry out against the voices and fall to a bench.
“It’s all right. It’s all right.” But there’s no candle here. No, it’s too dark in this basement. The van. Coffins, everything—everywhere. No flicker. No oxygen to feed a flame.
Just blame!
Plenty of that.
“Stop!”
Bright lights flash. A horn blares. Eyes flare wide as they turn to me for a final plea.
“I’m sorry,” they cry. “I’m sorry for breaking my promise.”
“Goodbye.”
Five souls walk away without a scratch.
Ha. Ha. Ha.
Five souls steal from one.
“I love you, brother. You’re going to be okay,” vacant eyes say. They lie as he dies and sucks away everything left in me.
My body shakes from the details crashing in. A steel monster smashing through the front passenger door. The van spinning, flying. Screams. Such a chorus of broken glass and terror. We’re all going to die. No one will die. Only one.
Oh god. Only one.
“Parker!” I reach through the shattered van. Sobs, the wet stench of tragedy. It’s so thick around me as I flail blindly for my anchor. My brother.
“I need you. Please, please.” I’m sobbing again. “I need you, Parker! Where are you? I can’t see! I can’t…”
Suddenly, warmth. Relief.
Parker. It was all a nightmare. Thank you, God!
Trembling, I fall against the steady rise and fall of another’s breath. He breathes for me. In. Out. In. Out.
Slowly, the air starts to circulate in my lungs.
In. Out.
Parker.
My rock.
My protector.
“Just breathe,” my father says.
∞∞∞
Just breathe.
Impossible when your rock is gone and your phone blows up with validation of fate’s mistake.
“Parker will be missed.”
“One-of-a-kind, that guy.”
“So sorry for your loss.”
“It wasn’t his time.”
“The good die young, right?”
Right.
I toss my phone on the pile of clothes in the corner of my room. Mila’s cooking something that makes my stomach lurch like everything else they’ve tried to force down my throat since we returned home. Two days and I’ve managed to swallow a bowl of cereal. My stomach is too bloated with pain.
Dad, Derrick, and Reece? I don’t know. At the funeral home probably, pinch-hitting for the train-wreck brother of the deceased.
“You’re gonna hate your funeral, dude,” I mutter to him. “It’s your own fault for leaving us in charge.”
You’re the micromanager, so who the hell is supposed to coordinate the fallout of your death?
“Didn’t think about that did you, genius?”
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