Page 12 of Out of the Blue

“What I’m thinking too,” Joey agrees.

When we enter a room, I’m struck immobile. This isn’t the radio event. The members of Hunte mill around, together with some other people I don’t recognize. I zero in on the lead singer-slash-guitarist, Braxton Hunte, as he struts around the room, surrounded by the rest of his band.

My breath goes cold.

Our Apex tour manager puts his hand on Braxton’s shoulder. “Hey, Raine,” the fifty-five-year-old musician greets him.

Raine gestures to our band. “Please let me introduce you to The Light Rail, the band that opened for you just now.” He points to each one of us, giving our names to the legends.

The blond guitarist takes over our impromptu meeting. “We got to hear some of your songs. Great job.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hunte,” Maurice grovels.

“It’s Braxton. And thank you for doing such a great job warming up the crowd for us. We’ll make sure to continue the good vibes when we get out there.”

Everyone shakes hands. When it comes time for me to meet Braxton, I stare at him for a couple beats before extending my arm. His grasp is firm. Like how I shake.

“Trent, nice to meet you. Enjoyed your performance out there.”

His words make me want to puke, but I succeed in not hurling. “Thanks.” About all I can muster.

He plants his free hand on my shoulder. My whole body freezes on impact, yet I don’t push away. Can’t. It’s all I can do to remain breathing.

“I used to be like you were on stage. By picturing the whole audience singing along with me, I was able to loosen up more.”

He thinks I need to be more relaxed onstage? Anger surges within me. Let him perform after his mother was massacred and see how he likes it. Not to mention … I pull back.

“I’ll try it.” Asshole.

Raine’s voice fills the room. “Sorry to cut this short, but The Light Rail needs to get to their meet-and-greet, and you,” he nods toward the headliners, “need to get ready to perform. There will be plenty more time to get to know each other over the next few months.”

I start to move toward freedom when Braxton’s large hand slides on my forearm—such a contrast to my own darker hue—the calluses from playing guitar rubbing against my skin. I’m on high alert. “I’m rooting for you. Keep up the great work.”

I nod and hurry to follow Raine to our next event. An open bar and some food are over in one corner, but we’re directed to the other side where a step and repeat is set up, with V250, Hunte, and The Light Rail logos printed on it.

Joey skips ahead and waves us over to him. “Guys, our first banner! We gotta record this!” He produces his cell phone and turns it on selfie mode, then snaps the four of us on the red carpet.

An older lady wearing an unbuttoned sweater over a matching shirt comes over to us. “I’m Rita, and I work for Apex. May I take a picture for you?”

“Sure. Thanks!” Joey offers her his cell phone, and she gets several shots of us. The rest of the band makes goofy faces and I join in but know my image won’t be as carefree.

When he gets his phone back, Joey continues to snap pictures of us as well as the room. Even though it’s pretty industrial, posters of Hunte and our band add personalization. Joey’s wife pops up behind him, and they take a few more shots of them kissing on the red carpet.

Both Dwight’s and Maurice’s wives come over and start dissecting our performance. “I think you guys were fantastic,” Joey’s other half says.

“Thanks, babe.” Joey kisses her cheek. “I think we did pretty damn good. We made Madison Square Garden rock.”

Dwight hooks his arm around his new bride after she gives us another fabulous review. For my part, I catch a server’s eye and he brings us a tray of champagne.

Without taking a flute, I ask, “By chance, do you have any Bud?”

“Of course.” He disappears to fulfill my beverage choice, and returns with a pilsner brimming with my favorite beer.

I take a sip and Raine points out where we need to stand for the meet-and-greet, which starts in a couple minutes. We make a show of changing places in the lineup several times, trading good-hearted barbs nonstop.

For my part, I’m ready for this spectacle to be over. Finishing my beer, I force an upbeat tone and announce, “Let’s meet some radio fans!”

Chapter 5 - Cordelia

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