Page 70 of Faithful

“Really? What kind?”

“Umm, like a concert. A rock band.”

“What’s the name of the band?”

“Iodine.” I don’t feel the need to share more, but she beats me to it.

“You’re kidding, right?” The woman’s eyes widen. “Those young men from Seattle? Wasn’t their singer accused of attempted murder at some point?”

I nod, fully expecting for her to spit in my face. (Also, Kai writes the most amazing lyrics and that’s what he’s known for? Like, for real?)

“They play tonight?” The woman continues to grill me as we walk side by side past the group of protesters waving a poster that readsCancel Iodine.

“They are doing a two-week residency in Double Down,” I tell my unlikely companion.

She beams. “I gotta tell my husband. We should totally check them out.”

“You should. They are pretty good live,” I say, a little touched by the fact that she actually doesn’t hate Kai.

“So I’ve heard.” She motions at the reception desk in front of us. “This is me. Nice to meet you and hope you have a good time.”

“You too.”

And with that, I head upstairs. Bodhi’s refused to sneak me into the club through the crew entrance because doing so night after night would make certain people suspicious, so today he grabs me from the front a few minutes before the doors open up and I’m ushered to the VIP balcony without even a choice.

“You saw it,” he says through his teeth as we climb the stairs.

“I did. What’s up with all those people in the lobby? I thought the venue capacity was only fifteen hundred and the show sold out?”

“The venue said they could make some room if we release extra tickets.”

“Wait…What?” I turn to meet his gaze.

“Don’t look at me like that, kid. I got fans flying out here from fucking Florida. What am I going to tell them?”

“You want to let more people in than the capacity allows?” I say dumbly, halting at the top of the staircase. “But it’s not fucking safe.”

“I’ve been doing this for twenty-some years. I can manage.” Bodhi slaps my shoulder. “Get yourself something at the bar and enjoy the show.” He hands me two drink tickets and rushes back down and out of my sight.

I stand there under the stream of muted club lighting for a long moment, then pull out my phone and text Kai.

be careful. crowd is insane out here 2night

* * *

At first, there seems to be nothing wrong with allowing additional bodies inside the venue.

Bash Spade does a good job warming up the audience and by the time Iodine goes on, they are ripe and ready.

The set list is slightly different every evening upon the band’s request.

“A lot of people come back,” Kai told me earlier this week when I asked him why. “We don’t want them feeling like, for us, it’s just a job. We want to give them something fresh each time. It’s an experience, not a concert.”

And he’s right.

When he comes out on that stage, all dark and mysterious and even a little scary in his demands for blood, at those moments, there’s nothing in him of that man I’ve gotten to know intimately over the course of the past months. He’s the center of it all and he manages to hypnotize me over and over again along with the rest of the fans gathered inside the club.

Today Ben’s buddies aren’t here. Instead, I’m sharing the balcony with a group of young people dressed in leather and spandex. One of the girls wears a coat similar to the one Kai owns. Her hair is black, just like his too. When the spinning beam of light sweeps by, illuminating her head for a moment, I can tell by the roots that it’s not her natural color. It’s a dye.

---