“A little professionalism would be excellent,” Sean said, appearing from behind the stage with a headset on. “You’re almost up.”
Regaining control, I adjusted my bowtie, grinding my teeth together. Any doubts I may have had about leaving the band were officially put to rest. I couldn’t do it anymore. Devon had chosen his path, and now it was time for me to choose mine. The music had brought us together, but it wasn’t enough to keep us together—Devon had allowed himself to be sucked into the blinding lights of stardom; he’d gotten swept away in the cheap thrills.
As much as it killed me to watch my old friend make a swift descent toward rock bottom, I couldn’t stick around to watch him crash and burn. Devon needed to pull himself out on his own.
“Five minutes,” one of the producers shouted.
I picked up my guitar, needing to re-focus and remove the mindless clutter from my thoughts. There was no Devon, no band drama, no Chelsie. None of that existed. It was just me and my guitar—like old times. I grazed my thumb against the strings, basking in the reassuring chords that reverberated through me. I played the first few notes ofHometown Girl.
“You’re up!”
The announcer introduced us as we got into position.
This was it.
This was the moment every musician dreamed about: The Grammy’s. Performing in front of hundreds of acclaimed performers and celebrities. We were among so much talent. Hell, wewerethe talent. I had envisioned this moment since I was a small child sneaking into my father’s closet and play songs by The Beatles on his rust-colored acoustic guitar. I’d fantasized about being on a stage like this with smoke and strobes and colorful lights.
My heart rumbled in my chest as the curtains were pulled, revealing the most high-profile audience I had ever performed for.
No pressure.
I strummed over the first note, the chords vibrating through the expectant auditorium. I closed my eyes.
Here we go…
Tad jumped in with a “one, two, three” on his drums and the song took off. I had played this song so many times, I could do it in my sleep. I glanced over at Devon who was already dancing around, head-banging on stage, and I couldn’t help but smile. The energy was contagious. If I was going out, I wanted it to be like this. It was almost like old times again as I watched my friends bounce around with a vitality I hadn’t witnessed in months. My eyes narrowed through the smoke as I looked out at the sea of artists I’d admired since I knew what music was.
Devon’s raspy voice echoed through the music hall and recoiled through me like an old friend. There were no fumbles. We didn’t miss a note or a beat. We were young, bright-eyed musicians again, running on pure adrenaline and a genuine love for performing. We weren’t jaded. There were no vices.
There was only music.
We ended the song with passion and efficiency, and the crowd went wild with whistles and applause. I let the emotions wash over me, throwing my arms up and lifting my guitar in the air like a well-deserved trophy.
I shared a triumphant look with Devon.
And for just a moment, everything was perfect.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
NOAH
As soon as the awards ceremony concluded, it was all about the after parties. It felt like my high school prom, only with million-dollar estates and the finest recreational entertainment.
The band and I mingled outside the venue, signing autographs and posing for more photo ops, while Beth, Chelsie, and Lisa waited in the SUV as we wrapped up. We’d decided to continue the party at Marley’s—it seemed like an inevitable end to the evening, since we were discovered on that small, dark stage in front of thirty people two years ago.
Devon waved to the crowd as he jogged over to our stretch limo, the coattails of his tuxedo billowing behind him. Following, I slid in next to Beth and across from Devon, Chelsie, and Lisa. Miles slipped in beside his girlfriend while Tad piled in last, falling back onto the cushioned seats with an exhilarating “whoop.”
Tad was the only band member who chose not to bring a date. Not because he couldn’t find anybody to go with him, but because Tad never really “dated” anybody in the time that I’d known him. We insisted he take Julia, but he’d refused. I never understood why fame and fortune hadn’t given him a newfound confidence with the ladies, but he didn’t seem to care.
“That may have been the best night of my life,” Lisa said, digging her fingers into Miles’ upper thigh.
I watched as Chelsie rested her head on Lisa’s shoulder as the vehicle began to move.
Fuck, she was pretty.
From her heart-shaped lips, to her milky white skin, to her meticulously manicured toenails peeking out through strappy heels. She was the type of woman other women wanted to hate because she was justso damnpretty, but they couldn’t because she was also sweet and kindhearted. Chelsie Combs was one of those rare females who didn’t fit into any category.
Beth sat beside me in silence with a passive disposition. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap as she gazed out the window over Lisa’s shoulder. She probably felt out of place among strangers, so I placed my hand atop her interlocked fingers and offered a smile when she looked up at me.