Page 57 of Out of the Blue

He bounces in time with the music, enjoying the show. Sticking his neck out behind the curtains, he scans the audience, which has grown to about three-quarters capacity during their performance. Of course, it’ll be one-hundred percent full—or more—when Hunte hits the stage.

“I told Trent I really like his band. I want them to be our opening act, but Apex has the final say. How are they doing with social media?”

“Good. They’re running even, if not a little ahead, of California Skies.”

He nods and watches as Trent interacts with the crowd more than ever before. “There’s something about him.” His jaw points toward the stage, where Trent’s riling up the audience.

“Kinda like watching yourself from years ago, huh?”Why did I say that?

He tugs on his earlobe. “Yeah. Sort of.”

An empty feeling lodges in the pit of my stomach and I eye the exit. I inch away from the man who is responsible for Trent being on this earth. “Well, I better, ah, post something.”

“Cordelia.”

I freeze.

“Did you read the article?”

He must be referencing the story Trent told me about this afternoon. Whatever. “The Connecticut one? Yeah, I did. Well, catch you later.” I scurry away, berating myself for saying something so stupid.

Chapter 18 - Trent

“Thank you, New Hampshire!” I wave to the crowd, which has filled up more than in the other venues. I toss my guitar pick toward where I was told Auntie Gloria’s sitting, even though the lights prevent me from seeing her.

My bandmates surround me and we lift our arms high, then take a bow. Sweat drips off all of our limbs onto the stage.

“Great show tonight, man,” Dwight yells.

“You were on fire,” Joey agrees.

Maurice adds, “We all were.”

Living off the high of my performance, I respond, “It’s a group effort, guys. We rocked it!”

With one final wave, we leave the stage and go back to the green room. I scan the room for my girl. She’s across the way engrossed on her phone. “Cordy! Give your man some sugar!”

Her head pops up, a grin crossing her face. She tucks her phone into her back pocket and stands. Soon, she wraps her arms around my body. Man, I could get used to this.

After our mouths do what our bodies should be doing, she sniffs. “Ugh. You’re all sweaty.” She launches herself backward.

I call her out. “Didn’t seem to mind a second ago.” Her tits have some damp spots on them, courtesy of me. I point. “Looks good to me.”

She rolls her eyes. “You.”

The guys approach, so I whisper, “Thank you for helping me get on the stage. Meant the world to me.”

“Glad to have helped.”

Someone pounds me on the back. “Dude. You did give your aunt backstage passes, right?”

I turn to face the culprit—my best friend. “Yup. She should be back here soon.”

Dwight gives me the thumbs up, followed by Cordy passing me a towel to wipe off the stage sweat. As I’m taking care of business, the door across the room opens. A heavier black woman strides into the room, followed by a man and two younger ladies. A boulder lodges in my throat. She’s pretty identical to my mom, only not rail thin. An overwhelming need to rush into her arms wars with a staggering desire to give her my back. Grief wins for a moment, and my towel flutters to the floor. Before she sees me, I allow myself an extended moment to drink her in like the final note before a gig ends. Swallowing, I offer a slight wave.

She zeroes in on me. “Trenton Washington. Get over here and give me some love!”

I put one foot in front of the other and travel toward the family unit. My only surviving family. Auntie Gloria opens her arms wide and I willingly go into them, receiving a hug that steals my breath. For one fleeting moment, I’m transported back into Mom’s arms and peace overcomes me. A picture of her diary floats through my brain and burning anger flares. Ultimately, the reality it’s my mother’s twin sister holding me—my mother remains in the ground—brings peace.

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