The Lonely Kings: Hard Rock Arrangement Part 26

Then Jason began to sing.

I felt it. The s.h.i.+ft in the crowd. The subtle tipping of the scales. And it was not in Jason's favor.

I'm the first to admit I don't really know much about music, but I have never, ever been a fan of Jason's band, even though I swore up and down that his songs could be world changing-privately I felt that world-changing could also mean world-destroying. Destruction is a change, right?

But now in the middle of the restless crowd, I suddenly had the feeling that maybe I didn't know as little about music as I thought I did.

Off to my left someone was openly sn.i.g.g.e.ring, while over to my right two teenage girls t.i.ttered with the t.i.tillation of watching a very bad show.

Someone in the audience shouted, "Booooo!"

"All it takes is one mean drunk," Kent whispered in my ear. "No one is here to see them, and if they aren't good..." His voice trailed off, but I knew very well how cruel crowds could be. Jason had been in front of his fair share of hostile audiences, but given Sean and Ricky's reactions, I would have bet money that they'd never performed before. Jason had burned through all the bandmates that were worth anything, and now that he was getting his chance, he had these two burnouts to back him up. I almost felt sorry for them. Almost. I knew what they were like when they were wasted.

Jason paid the crowd no mind, but Ricky's rhythm stumbled, and poor Sean's shoulders tightened and lifted.

Kent's arms were around my waist, warm and solid. I tightened my hands on his forearms as the song wandered on. I'd always told him that he needed to learn to cut things, but to Jason his music was perfect.

The crowd grew more and more restless as Jason sang. The boom of the music wasn't quite enough to drown out the murmurs, and when Sean stepped up to the microphone I braced myself.

Sean leaned in to sing the harmony in the chorus, sharing Jason's mic. They both opened their mouths wide and took deep breaths.

For the briefest moment, I fretted that the chorus would change the course of the night. That people would suddenly decide they loved Sweet Lobotomy. Blogs would give them glowing reviews, and I would be doomed to watch Jason achieve his fame and fortune.

And I was on the verge of a full blown meltdown when Sean chose that moment to open his mouth, make a little hurk! sound into the microphone, and then blow chunks all over Jason's face.

The music came to a grinding halt-except for Ricky, running the drums and off in his own little world.

A collective gasp came up from the audience. Then someone started laughing. Another person joined in, and another and another and another...

Laughing at him.

I knew Jason. His pride was the most important thing to him. Watching his eyes grow wide and wounded as the crowd began to boo and hiss.

"Get off the stage!" someone yelled at him.

Looking around, he couldn't seem to find an exit, or even a towel to dry off with.

Sean leaned over the side of the stage and puked again. The crowd screeched and surged backwards, while Jason howled with rage and tackled Sean, fists flying.

Before I knew it, Kent had flipped us around, pressing me back against the column and s.h.i.+elding me with his body. He towered over me, and my whole body responded in a way that was incredibly inappropriate given the near-riot happening around us. I just wanted to climb him like a tree, twine my arms around his neck and slide him deep inside me. I wanted to reach up and pull him down into me. My whole body burned with desire at his protective stance, and my heart beat a hundred miles a minute.

He leaned down and spoke in my ear over the roar of the crowd. "We should get backstage," he said. He let his hands run over my b.r.e.a.s.t.s very briefly on the way to my hands before he pulled me through the crowd. We reached the Employees Only door just before the lights went up in the house.

We'd no sooner reached the safety of backstage than a commotion pulled our attention over to the wings behind the stage entrance. Jason was shouting. I watched in a trance as one of the pit crew pulled his struggling, kicking body off the stage and toward the back.

"Chill out, man, just chill out," the crewman was saying, but Jason was having none of it. His teeth were bared, his voice ragged and hoa.r.s.e, and his s.h.i.+rt was soaked with Sean's vomit. I could smell it from where I stood.

"Let me go, you motherf.u.c.king motherf.u.c.ker!" His flailing foot caught the crewman on the knee. The poor guy grunted and went down like a brick just as Jason's eyes fell on Kent and me.

"You!" he screamed. "You b.i.t.c.h. You set me up. You set me up!"

And he charged right at me.

In a flash, Kent was standing in front of me, guarding me with his body. I stood there in shock; Jason had systematically destroyed my self-esteem and self-worth, but he'd never hit me. But now... now there was murder in his eyes.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Jason and Kent collided, their bodies smas.h.i.+ng into each other, and the sound made my stomach turn. Jason drew back and punched Kent in the ribs and I saw him grimace as he looped his arms around Jason's neck and put him in a headlock.

But that sort of thing doesn't stop crazy people. Jason's arms kept swinging, his fists smas.h.i.+ng into Kent's stomach and kidneys. Kent bore it stoically, as though this were the sort of thing he dealt with all the time.

Jason is just like Kent's father, I thought. The thought came out of nowhere, and suddenly I saw how strong Kent was. Had he fought his own father? Had he fought his demons this way?

I wanted to be able to do that. I didn't want to hide behind Kent and the rest of the band any more. If I was going to cleanse my life of Jason's poisonous presence, it was going to be me who did it.

"Stop!" The word was out of my mouth before I could catch it. My hands were trembling. "Stop! Jason! I want to talk to you!"

That got their attention, and the scuffle subsided slightly. Jason's face was red and I wondered just how tight Kent was holding him. Was he going to pa.s.s out?

"Let him go, Kent," I said.

Kent's eyes narrowed briefly. Then he let Jason go, holding up his hands.

Jason straightened up, and now that I was looking at him, so short, so untalented, so dull and mean and cruel next to Kent, I couldn't believe I'd ever let him drag me under.

"You b.i.t.c.h," Jason spat. "I'm going to every magazine in the country and telling them all about you." He stalked forward, his finger raised, preparing to shake it in my face. "It doesn't matter what you say, everyone will know you're a strung out junkie, playing everyone, acting so high and mighty when you're just a s.l.u.t-"

I punched him in the nose.

Now I don't know the first thing about punching a guy in the nose, and it hurt like a motherf.u.c.ker, but it sure wasn't my bones breaking with a crunch.

Man. I know they say it's good to take the high road. But it's also good to punch a.s.sholes in the face, too.

Jason reeled back and doubled over. "Holy s.h.i.+t!" he screamed, but since his nose was, you know, broken, it came out like Hody s.h.i.+d!

The crewman finally reached us. He took one look at the situation, grabbed Jason by the collar, and steered him away. "You dumbs.h.i.+t," he said as he walked away, Jason in hand, writhing in agony. "I almost broke my hand on your ugly face..."

They rounded the corner, and just like that he was gone.

I stood there blinking in the bright lights, my senses overloaded, my body shaking with adrenaline aftershocks and my hand throbbing. "Holy s.h.i.+t," I said.

Kent leaned down and kissed me.

My whole being listed into him, rising on my tiptoes. I felt as though he were sucking my soul out through my mouth, a sweet, agonizing ecstasy. When he finally broke away I was breathless, unable to even think. The heat of his body wrapped around me, warming me.

"Welcome to your new life," Kent said. "You're free to do what you like now."

I stared up at him, blinking stupidly. "I just punched him..." I said. "He's going to press charges..."

"Who saw it?" Kent asked me. "Just me and a guy from the pit crew doing the thankless double duty of security. I think I'll give him a bonus. How did it feel to stand up to him?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Isn't he going to come back? Won't he hate me more now?"

Kent smiled. "The contract he signed to perform as our opener had several clauses, not the least of which was that he was forbidden to contact any of us in perpetuity. You don't have to worry about him any more. And if he violates that contract, hara.s.ses you, anything, I'll take care of it. If I can't do it legally..." He touched my injured hand lightly and shrugged with a little smile. "Come on, we're going to have to appear on stage earlier than we thought."

In a daze, I followed him as he took me back to the band lounge and told the rest of the band to get ready. Carter smiled and Manny demanded to know what happened. Kent filled them in, and the results of their meddling made even Sonya smile.

Together, we all moved to the wings of the stage and waited, though the rest of them left a respectful distance between themselves and Kent and me.

On the stage, pit crew were cleaning up, rus.h.i.+ng to change out instruments, rus.h.i.+ng to mop up the vomit. Sweet Lobotomy was nowhere to be seen, and the crowd was riotous.

I was still trying to process it all. I looked up at Kent.

"How did you know that was going to happen?" I asked. I was numb with shock. I suspected that any moment now a tidal wave of relief was going to wash over me and carry me away, but right now I was standing on the beach, staring dumbly at the suddenly receding tide.

"I didn't really," Kent said. "But it's not hard to undermine people who don't deserve success. Plenty of people work their a.s.ses off and don't have an ex-girlfriend to blackmail into getting that leg up. They know that, deep down, and it comes out." He shrugged at me. "The crowd decided their fate, not me."

That, and the vodka and low morale. "And if it had gone well?" I said.

His mouth quirked. "I'd have punched him in the d.i.c.k until he pa.s.sed out." His little smile broke into a full blown grin at the expression on my face. "Come on, Rebecca, you know I would have all the bases covered."

I just shook my head. Of course he would.

"Showtime!" someone shouted, and then Kent was leaning down, his warm lips on my forehead as he gave me a sweet parting kiss.

"Watch us from the wings," he said as Carter, Manny and Sonya pushed past us. Then he let go of me and wandered out onto the stage.

The roar of the crowd crashed into me as I watched the band settle themselves with their instruments. They didn't even say h.e.l.lo, just launched into one of their more upbeat, violent songs off the first alb.u.m, and I watched them, dazed.

They were magnificent. Carter's fingers danced over his guitar, Sonya's voice soared, and Manny's rhythms drove through me. But it was Kent's ba.s.s that sang in tune with my heart. I felt my whole body vibrate in harmony with his music.

When the song trailed away, Carter stepped up to the mic as Sonya went and rearranged herself at the piano.

"h.e.l.lo San Diego!" Carter called. "Thanks for having us!"

The roar of the crowd drowned him out, and as I watched him from backstage I suddenly saw what I had been missing all this time. The hints of his childhood-a father who didn't care about him except for how much money he could make for him, an absent mother-suddenly came cras.h.i.+ng in and I realized why he craved the crowd, why he loved it so much. There was a place inside him, open and empty, and he needed the love of the crowd to pour into him.

But Kent... Kent stood, his ba.s.s hanging from his neck, loose in his hands. Looking lazy and almost bored, as if all of this were merely formality.

Kent didn't need the crowd like Carter did. Kent was the one who labored, whose strength came from the inside, and I realized, standing there as the crowd roared so loudly I thought I'd go deaf, that I was the one who helped Kent. I propped him up, and he wanted to do the same for me. He wasn't going to let me fall, not out of pity or charity, not because he felt sorry for me, but because he needed me. He would do it for me because he saw in me something I didn't even see myself: someone who was strong, who could be his partner. There was so much ahead of us, so much still to come, but for now, it was enough to know that we could be two halves of a whole, that we could be the one the other needed. It was enough to know that I could be one person in the world that Kent trusted besides himself.

He wasn't going to let me go.

Warmth spread through me, and as the crowd died down as Carter raised his hands, I finally felt at ease. A calm, sweet feeling. I hadn't felt that way in years. I listened, curious, but no longer nervous.

"It has come to my attention," Carter said when the crowd had quieted, "that some of you think my heart is broken." He grinned. "That would make for some good songs, wouldn't it?"

The crowd cheered, and Carter waved them down. "I'm sorry to say, my heart has not been cruelly shattered, so you guys won't get any sad ballads out of me for a while yet. But while I have your attention, I wanted to set the record straight. The woman that everyone thought was my girlfriend is just a friend."

A small chorus of boos.

"Hey, shut up!" Carter said. "I'm being real here. Let me explain. Rebecca Alton is very dear to me, but we never dated. You all know I've had problems with substance abuse for a while." He laughed a little bit. "It was pretty obvious. Well, Rebecca showed up in my life, and she helped me turn that around."

He blinked and ducked his head. The crowd was still, and many cell phones began to light up as people started lifting them up to film.

Carter took a deep breath and continued. "Without Rebecca, I don't know what would happen to me. She's like the big sister I never had. I love her, very much, but it was never romantic. You guys also know how much I love a joke, so you're not going to be surprised when I tell you that it was all my idea to make out for the paparazzi. I thought it would be funny to string them along, and it was for a while... until I realized Rebecca would be perfect for someone I knew. You all know who that is."

The crowd muttered. I felt them breathing, out there in the dark, their faces aglow with the light from the stage. Receiving the words of their G.o.ds, or something.

"Rebecca has not, and has never, cheated on me," Carter continued. "It was me who set her up with Kent, and I'm thrilled to say that I was right and they are perfect for each other, and I couldn't be happier for them. So tonight, we'd like to debut a song that no one's ever heard before. A special song. This is a song that Kent wrote, and I think you all know who it's for."

Then he backed away from the microphone and, to my unending shock, Kent stepped up to it, and the crowd cheered.

He cleared his throat. "I'm not, uh... I'm not used to singing, so forgive me if I f.u.c.k it up," he said, and the darkness filled with laughter. "This is a song for a special person to me and the rest of the band. It's called "A Long h.e.l.lo." You can record it if you want. Enjoy."

And back stage I stood, rooted to the spot, paralyzed.

No one had ever written a song for me before. Not even Jason when we were first dating.

Swallowing hard, I reached down and pinched myself, willing my brain to snap into the present, to appreciate all of this as it was happening. It was so unreal to me, a precious moment whipping past like the line of a flyaway kite that I had to catch.

The sweet, low sounds of Kent's ba.s.s started. Then Sonya joined in with the piano, and finally Carter, and I realized I'd heard this song before. It was the song that Kent was playing in his room the night we first f.u.c.ked. I'd listened to him writing it.

My eyelids fluttered and I suddenly felt dizzy, swaying on my feet. I couldn't get enough air.

Then Kent started to sing, his rich, velvet voice untrained, unpolished, and so, so beautiful to me. I listed to it booming out into the night, and closed my eyes against the sting of tears.

"This is for the one who falls, this is for the one who tries, this is for the one who lives and dies, this is for the one who never let me down, this is for the one who loves, this is for the one who makes me sing, the one who didn't leave, the one who still believes, this is for you for you for you.

And I will follow you no matter where you go, And there will be no tears inside your heart, I will dry them, we will dry them for you, we will be by your side, and hold you in our arms hold you, hold you up..."

My heart broke and died in my chest, then was reborn, over and over again as he sang. The crowd was almost silent, and out in the dark I saw a hundred thousand cellphones lifted, their screens flas.h.i.+ng in the dark, recording this moment. Tonight it would beam out across the world, and everyone would know this new song by The Lonely Kings.

Everyone would know it was for me.

The lights blurred. The music lifted, soaring into the dark. I couldn't even catch the rest of the lyrics over the thunder of blood in my ears, but I heard the melody and the harmony and the cadence of Kent's powerful, velvet voice.

I reveled in it. I lived it. And when it was over, I died in it.

I didn't want it to end. I wanted it to keep going. A perfect moment for me to revisit for the rest of my life.

Out in the darkened club the crowd was going nuts, and it was then that Kent glanced off to the wings of the stage, held out his hand, and gestured for me to come to him.

In a daze, I drifted out, my hands reaching for his.

Our fingers touched. Then he pulled me to him and kissed me, and the crowd went wild.