Page 77 of When London Snow Falls

“Second thing—” Ben leans in for a kiss, and when our mouths meet, it’s an instant burn, even better than the whiskey. He savors me and I shudder. “That’s probably the third through fifth things as well.”

“Do you do this with all of the guitarists at the gigs you go see?” I ask archly. “Distract them with pre-show snogging?”

“Only the cute ones,” he teases, entirely irreverent. “I personally like them looking like Charlie Renfrew. The man’s a legend.”

“Oh God. I’m gonna be sick if you keep that flattery up. It’d be better if you told me that it was all a bit shit, actually. That’d take the edge off.”

Ben gives me a sympathetic look. “Want a drink?”

“No, no. I just had one and one’s plenty. But I appreciate the thought. Tell you what, you keep going with the drinks for both of us.”

“You’ll be fire, lovely.” Ben squeezes my hand and gives me a more lingering kiss. This time, it’s less frenetic, more leisurely. Enough to bring me back and ground me. This is just a gig. One night. That’s it. Then I’m back to regular life.

There are a lot of minutes in a night.

Wow, seriously, brain. Don’t start calculating the number of minutes in the night, or the percentage of those minutes spent on stage. They’ll pale in comparison to the number of minutes pre-show where nerves got the better of you. Because Ben is out there, watching.

“I probably should get back.” It’s a shame, because I’d rather stay with Ben, pretend we’re alone back in Brighton together. Instead, the bar’s loud and there are a million people around laughing and drinking and being rowdy.

“I’ll be here when you finish,” Ben promises. “I won’t leave without you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He laughs. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

“Please.” With a shake of my head and a final quick kiss, I go to rejoin my bandmates in the greenroom.

Briar’s wearing a crown of roses to complement her long blond hair. Where the crown came from, I have no idea, because she was sans crown fifteen minutes ago. Gillian’s tucked a flower behind her ear. As I look around, it turns out my band has been thoroughly rosed while I was gone.

Gillian flashes a broad grin, approaching with roses in hand. “Your turn.”

“What exactly is happening?”

“Briar wants us all to look fresh for the New Year. And red is so your color, Charlie. You’ll be stunning.” I don’t know how her grin could get bigger, but she presents me with a rose crown too. “Just look at this beauty.”

My eyebrows lift. “We’re all going for this look, I take it?”

“You’re both front and center. Now, don’t hurt Jackson’s feelings. He brought us all of these.”

Jackson is about as whimsical as Briar, who is perfectly willowy and somehow gravity has enough hold on her to keep her tethered down here on earth. Sometimes, I think she might float away, seemingly distracted all of the time. Then she nails a song and feeds the audience their pancreas on a platter with the soar of her vocals. As far as I can tell, she’s not quite human.

I lower my head a little for Gillian to work with the crown. She uses a couple of hair pins to secure it. Gingerly, I shake my head. The crown stays in place.

When we go out, the dazzle of the stage lights is blinding, making the crowd invisible. And that’s finally when I feel calmer. Thankfully. I’m not totally calm, which is good, because I can channel that extra energy into my performance.

Jackson counts us off and then we’re blazing through our set list to a crowd that roars its approval. Briar’s electric and sultry, her voice carrying through the venue in such a way that even my arms are covered with goose bumps. She has power in her lungs and her magnetic presence. I do my best to keep up with supporting vocals.

Giving myself over to the music, I forget about everyone and everything except the sounds we make together. The extra rehearsals have paid off. Briar’s fantastic and I’m doing everything I can to keep up with her charisma. She’s down to a camisole over her full skirt as she plays to the crowd, who goes wild for her. I catch Gillian’s eye and she gives me a megawatt grin as Jackson thumps the heartbeat of the bar. The crowd dances as one, euphoric. The energy in the room is frenetic. Closing my eyes, I give over to the music and sing like I haven’t before, putting it all out there, the ecstasy of Ben and the angst of Carys being so far away. All of the family hurts about not being enough are left behind, and possibilities stretch ahead.

When it’s like this, the five of us playing as one, it’s brilliant. Like there’s no me and no Briar, no Gillian, Jackson, or Matt. We’re one thudding baseline, one beat. Time disappears, the venue disappears, everything disappears. It’s just us and the music and we’re transcendent.

At last the lights go down on our last song, but we’re roared back for an encore, the crowd revved up after our performance. I knock back water in the wings, then we’re back on stage. This time, I’m swapping out my electric guitar for an amplified acoustic. Jackson brings out a hand drum.

We perform two more songs, winding the crowd down from their ecstatic high, Briar leading them to sing through the chorus. Like this, we end the night in cheers and whistles, and the thunder and roar of the hundred and fifty people in the venue.

If this is a taste of Ben’s world, no wonder he lives for performing.

Chapter Thirty-Six

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