Page 77 of Bottoms Up
Voluntary slavery. I knew Silver had once agreed to it, and I understood why she said she never would again, which was finewith me. I like that she’s her own person, but I also appreciate the sex-on-demand arrangement.
Security needed to transport eight of us, and since we couldn’t take the limo because it would draw too much attention, it meant we had to split up into two vehicles.
They put the four band members in one, and the rest of us in another. I wanted to argue, but I figured the band probably had more pre-practice discussion, so I got into the other vehicle with Ghost, Micca, and Davy, who’d been handed jeans and a T-shirt in the garage on the way out. It seemed Will was serious about there being no clothing in the house.
Atlas was in the front passenger seat of the SUV, and Mac turned and said, “This is Atlas, security for Julian and Silver. He’ll be working with us when everyone’s together. Atlas, Davy and Micca are with Will, and Ghost is with Suli, known as Hailey in private.”
“He’ll be watching during the first run-through?” Ghost asked.
Mac nodded and told me, “Ranger’s protocol for anyone new to guarding the group is to let them sit and watch the performance once, so they know who is where on stage, where there are supposed to be explosions. He’ll know the crazy-blow-up-stickmen being activated means something happens there and then — fire, explosion, confetti cannon, whatever.”
“That means I’ll get to sit with you and watch, to start,” Atlas told me.
* * * *
Silver
I was glad Will’s plan was for us to go completely through our set. I actually sing most of the new song, and I didn’t want to do that in front of Julian right off the bat. By the time we got tothe new one, I’d be okay, but I needed some time on stage before I was ready.
We can play at full volume in our downstairs practice room and in the recording studio, but we don’t. We’d like to still be able to hear when we turn sixty, and loud music in a smaller room isn’t conducive to that.
Though, I supposed that wasn’t something I needed to worry about, if I was going to be a vampire sooner rather than later.
Hailey wears earplugs when we play. Werewolves and vampires have super-sensitive hearing. She says she can turn it down internally, but it’s easier to just block it in the first place. When we play in the top of the turret, it’s more about the view than the sound. Amps low, digital drums, just enough to stay tight without shaking the windows and possibly letting a song leak early, and we use headphones instead of amps when we practice in the tent.
But here, we’d play at full sound. The space was big enough to handle the volume, and I lovefeelingthe music in every cell of my body.
As I’d known would happen, fifteen seconds into the first song, it was just me, the music, and my bandmates. Six songs later, Animal started us into the new song, and I was front and center on the stage — and Will had already lowered the mic for me, so all I had to do was play my guitar and sing.
We ran through our set in an hour and ten minutes. We’re supposed to have an hour at this festival, but we’re the last act, so no one’s going to complain if we go ten minutes over.
Will hugged me and pulled me off my feet, spun me around, put me down, and then turned and hugged Mikey, who’d left his drums to come out and stand with us. We all wrapped our arms around each other, facing our tiny little audience, and then our exit music played and we all danced and strutted our way to the back of the stage and out of sight.
I heard someone clapping, and frowned at Mikey, beside me. Then someone else clapped, and someone else, and then several people. We all walked out, and our lovers were giving us a standing ovation. Atlas, too.
Later, I found out Julian stood and clapped, then Davy, and then everyone else.
Julian flew up on stage when he saw me, and I lifted my arms so he could lift me and hug me when he neared.
“You were magnificent,stellina,amore mio, mon trésor.”
His little star, his love, his treasure. I would never tire of hearing those words fall so gracefully from his mouth.
Tonight, I wouldn’t mind being your pasticcino. I frowned. Is that right? Is this one of those words I can just change from a to o on the end to make it male?
Or we can just say cupcake in English and not worry with gender. I would love to feed from you tonight, il mio sole.
His sunshine. I’m not always sunshiny and happy, but it probably fit tonight.
“If we’re through with the hugging,” Mitch said, “I’d like to go through the new song again, and we still have to figure out a title for it.”
I’d assumed the title would beMan Up, and I said so.
“Doesn’t work,” Mitch said. “Silver has said for years she isn’t either gender, so having her sing the lead on a song calledMan Upwill be too confusing.”
I scented annoyance on Silver again, and I turned to Mitch. “Since when has Silver cared about other people’s confusion? Hell, write another one next year and name itWoman Up, and let her sing that one, too, if you must, but he clearly wrote this one to be calledMan Up.”
“That could be the answer to…” Silver shrugged. “I’d been a little concerned about singing this in a miniskirt and crop top with heels and long indigo hair, but maybe I can sing it for thegender I am that night? Woman Up or Man Up?” She looked at Mikey. “It isn’t really about gender, it’s just a phrase that landed right. I wrote it about having spine. About doing the hard thing because it’s the right thing.”
