Page 4 of Take You Down

“We’re gonna run Scarlett’s sound check now if y’all wanna stick around,” one of the sound engineers says as she leans over the panel behind us.

I exchange a confused look with Hayden before Arun amends, “The artist replacing the opener. Scarlett Lane.”

The name doesn’t ring any bells for me, and judging from Hayden’s facial expression, it doesn’t for him either.

“I’ll stick around,” I say, settling in. Hayden leans back next to me, obviously as curious about the newcomer joining the tour as I am.

“I’m going to go track down Nikolai and see what headache I may be dealing with tomorrow,” Arun shoots over his shoulder as he strolls off.

The lights dim around us, leaving just the stage lights casting a white glow across the various speakers and instruments onstage.

“Ever heard of her?” Hayden asks.

“Don’t think so. Assuming Boone knows her?”

Although looking toward the stage, Boone is nowhere to be seen and neither are the stagehands that were just there. There’s only one lone person now, very small-looking from here, but I think even offstage, she would be petite. Her head is tilted down toward the floor, hair obscuring most of her face, not that I would be able to see very clearly from back here anyways. She’s adjusting her in-ear monitor before shooting a thumbs-up toward the booth behind me.

There’s some chatter before a song begins, guitar chords reverberating off of the empty seats. The intro is vaguely familiar, my brain racing to try to place it, until the most hauntingly beautiful voice rings through the stadium, immediately ripping any focus away from anything else and demanding I zero all in on it. My attention is now transfixed on the woman in front of me, singing with a voice full of pain, as if spilling from a void deep inside.

2

WALKER

The lyrics sing a tale of torment and agony, but it’s the ache in her voice that sells them. It’s mesmerizing. It’s as if you can hear her heart bleeding into each word she sings, pulling them from the depth of her being and pouring into each note.

“She’s incredible,” I whisper loud enough that even Hayden nods. The metal of the security rail is cool under my burning palms, tapping along on their own free will to the beat of the song. The drop is heavy and melodic, sounding very similar to something Boone had played for me a while ago.

As she’s nearing the bridge, I finally place the song. Boone had played it for me when I spent some time in his studio with him, messing around for a few days with different genres of dance music, trying to get some creative juices flowing again during Whisper Me Nothings time off.

This version is much more polished, the vocals sound almost completely different even though I’m sure the first version I heard of it also had Scarlett singing on it. Her voice is distinct enough to place the two together in my head.

I turn my attention back to Scarlett as she sings out the final notes of the song, leaning over as if the song physically pained her to sing, before turning to the side of the stage to call a note out to the stagehand that mic’d her up. When she sang, her voice hinted at a brokenness deep inside, but now as she’s talking to the stagehand, there’s a confidence in her tone, and I can’t decide what I’m more drawn to.

Which is fucked up, I know, but something inside of me is drawn toward the jaggedness of those broken shards I saw a glimpse of and I want to know more. I watch as she talks, her expression focused, yet expressive. It’s only then that I realize I drifted closer to the stage as she sang, because I can make out her facial expressions now. She gestures to her in-ear monitors and the guy makes a note on his clipboard before walking off.

Her hair is long and slightly curled at the ends, coming down almost to her waist. If the lights aren’t deceiving me, it looks like the ends are a deep purple, the rest a jet black, matching the rest of her outfit.

I’m distracted, trying to take her in before another song begins, this one slightly more upbeat than the last.

“She’s good, yeah?” Boone strides up beside me, his eyes soft as he watches Scarlett, at odds with the tense set of his shoulders.

I nod. “I’m pretty sure you played that one for me before, did you not?”

His brow furrows for a moment, trying to recall, before smoothing out and confirming, “Yeah. It’s all hers though. She wanted to sell it to me, but I insisted she keep it.”

“She sell a lot of her stuff?”

He nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Do I know anything of hers?”

“Watch her full set tonight and see for yourself.”

Like I wasn’t planning on that ever since I heard her sing that first note.

“Look, Walker, I’m not trying to give some sort of speech to the rest of the guys or anything.” Boone turns to face me, his stare locking in on my own as I reluctantly drag my eyes away from Scarlett. His serious tone pulls my full attention.

“Scar’s had a rough past couple of years…” He pauses, as if considering how much he wants to divulge. “That’s for her to get into with y’all if she wants, but I’m telling you this now because I know how you and guys like to get on tour.”

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