Page 133 of Rebel

She grins and twirls over to Chase, leaning into him as they sing together before she jumps and dances over to Trav, who grins widely.

I can’t help but watch her, the music flowing more effortlessly than it ever has. She captures my attention, and when I drag my eyes away, I see the crowd feels the same, enraptured by her as the final notes ring through the arena and she holds up her mic. When the crowd quiets enough, she pulls it down.

“Hello, you amazing people. We are Dead Ringers, and welcome to the first night of our tour!” They scream, and she laughs, waiting until they quiet again. “I’m Beck Danvers. Some of you might know me, some of you might not, but I’m a newbie here.” She winks, and then she turns. “Tonight, we have the incredible Kolton shredding bass.”

I play a few chords with a smirk, and she fans her face. “The ever sexy Chase on the electric guitar.” He saunters forward, leaning into the crowd as he plays. They reach and scream for him despite the security guards at the barrier.

“And of course, our talented Trav on drums!” she shouts as he smashes out his solo.

When it ends, she turns back to the crowd. “Now, how about we kick this off with some new music I know you have all been dying to hear?” She holds her hand to her ear. “I can’t hear you.” They scream louder. Who wouldn’t when she asked?

“Okay, okay, well then, hold on because we are about to melt your faces.” She puts her mic back and grabs her guitar as we are counted in, and then she starts to play. Her fingers move over the guitar like water as she rolls and dances with it, moving across the stage with effortless steps as Chase’s smoky voice fills the air, and then hers.

Trav and I join in, adding backup vocals.

They don’t know the words, but the crowd screams and jumps as we head straight into the next song, “Hills,” an older one, and they go wild.

The entire time we play, my eyes are on Beck. She plays the crowd naturally, never showing she’s nervous. She sings better than she ever has, dancing along like a world-class dancer, and always makes sure to include us. The crowd eats it up, chanting our names, and when it comes to talking?

Shit, she’s a natural.

“Well, well, are we having a good time so far?” she calls, holding out the mic as she takes a drink. The crowd screams, and she grins as Chase comes over, leaning into her.

“How many of you are looking at Beck’s ass?” The crowd screams louder, and she chuckles, elbowing Chase.

“How’s the view from back there?” she flirts.

“Perfection.” He presses his hand to his chest, and the crowd eats it up.

“Alright, alright, now I know we all like the old stuff—trust me, I do too—but we have more new songs to play if that’s okay with you.” She waits for them to agree and glances back at me. “What do you think, Kolt? Want to hit them with that new song? You know the one, it goes dun dun—” I shred the guitar as the crowd screams, and Trav hits the drums as we move into the next song.

We know they will love it. It’s fast, hard, and dirty, and they fucking salivate as we play. My heart races with adrenaline from the adoration and feelings of not being alone, but this time, I won’t even be alone when I leave the stage.

I have her.

When she steps forward, she waits for the audience to quiet down. “Okay, we have to shift gears now. I need you to turn your flashlights on for me. Chase, it’s all you.” She hands over the mic and quickly changes guitars.

He’s nervous. We weren’t sure if he was going to be okay adding the song they wrote about his addiction, but he was more than happy to. Facing the crowd now, though, he swallows hard. She moves closer, kisses his cheek, and whispers something.

We wait for him. “This one comes from my soul,” he admits into the mic. “We all know I’ve struggled with my addiction in the past, and every day since then, I struggle. This is for every single person out there who knows that struggle, who fights every day just to say no.” The song starts up, and his voice is slow and husky as we play the soft melody.

There aren’t any lights on us, just him where he stands in the center of the stage.

He’s getting the recognition for the fight he wins every day.

More and more flashlights turn on until the whole area is lit up brightly, as if by candlelight. The view is extraordinary. So many souls stand with him, and when he’s done, Chase wipes at his eyes.

I move over, handing him a drink, and he thanks me as Beck hugs him.

“Alright, you fuckers,” Trav calls to give us time. “Since you dirty bastards are here, then that means you love to rebel, am I right?” He watches as they scream. “Good, because it just so happens that’s our next album, and this is the song our brilliant new lead singer wrote for you.”

As we play the next one, Beck jumps to the front of Trav’s drums, and they rise into the air. My heart aches as I watch them, panic winding through me until they hit the floor once more, and she dances off it, skidding to her knees with the last note.

The rest of the concert goes just as well, and we do two encores, and even when we wave and walk off after the last one, we can hear them screaming our names.

Beck jumps up and down, hopped up on adrenaline and excitement as I sling my arm around her shoulders. “I need a drink.”

“Me too, or ten,” she gushes. “They loved it, Kolt.”

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