Page 165 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me
He grabbed my hand like it was his lifeline. “I don’t think I can do this. They all want to hear the old stuff. They’re all expecting the old Gabriel. What if I can’t live up to that? What if they hate the new music?”
I rubbed my thumb over his knuckles. He looked so tortured, so miserable that I was tempted to tell him that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to. But I refrained. He needed to do this for himself. “First of all, who isthey?”
“The fans who showed up for a meet and greet. The journalists. Everyone.”
I knew nothing about a meet and greet or that journalists would even be here, but I guess his PR team set it up.
Gabriel had done this so many times before, and he’d always been comfortable and relaxed and generous with his fans, but I had to keep reminding myself that this was all new for him. I couldn’t blame him for feeling overwhelmed.
I wracked my brain for the right words.
“You don’t owe anyone anything,” I started. “All that matters is thatyoubelieve in your new music.ThisGabriel. The man you are now. The musician who had to learn how to play guitar fromscratch. Who works tirelessly to hone his craft. Who loses sleep to chase the chords and melodies in his head and writes lyrics that are so profound and so poetic that everyone who hears them will be emotionally moved.
“Youare enough. Just as you are. Right here and right now. So, kick all the expectations and the noise right out of your head and let the music flow right through you. Go out there and make that room your sacred space and I can guarantee you that as soon as you start playing, everything else will fade away. Because youarethe music, Gabriel.”
When I was done with my long-winded speech, Gabriel was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.
“What?” I said, suddenly self-conscious.
He shook his head. “You.”
That was all he said, justYou.
He angled his body toward me and studied my face with so much intensity that it was all I could do to hold his gaze. His brows knitted. “How did I ever live without you?” he wondered.
“I’ve been asking myself that same question for weeks now.” I arched my brows at him. “You didn’t do such a great job of it though, did you?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “God, I love you,” he said, still laughing.
I shook my head and sighed. There he went again. Those words just rolled off his tongue so easily. A littletooeasily if you asked me.
But I didn’t have a chance to respond because it was time for them to go on and I wanted to be right up front to watch the magic happen.
I had complete faith that it would because when he stood up from the sofa, his entire demeanor had changed. He looked confident and determined.
He clapped his hands together. “Let’s go out there and give it everything we’ve got.”
Gabriel was ready to go.
My mom sat with Sean at one of the tables along the perimeter, and Maya and I squeezed into a spot front and center. We were packed in like sardines, but the energy and anticipation were palpable as the guys took the stage.
When Gabriel stepped into the spotlight with his blond Telecaster, it felt like the first time I ever saw him. Except that this time the crowd was bigger, and girls were screaming his name. He strummed his guitar and they screamed louder. There were a lot of shrieks ofoh my god!andI love you, Gabriel!and one girl behind us,oh my god, he’s even hotter in real life, I want to have his baby.
Who said things like that? Gabriel’s fans, that’s who.
It was those pouty lips of his and those damn cheekbones that could cut glass. The disheveled hair and those big, dumb boots that had lost their laces again. Or maybe it was just him. He had a certain aura about him that drew people in like a magnetic force field.
Maya gave me a look of horror that said,How do you even deal with this?
I pursed my lips and held up my hands.Trust me, it’s not easy.
I was a green-eyed jealous lover but for all intents and purposes, he was still mine, at least for tonight, and none of these girls would get their hands on my man so I took some comfort in that.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” he said into the mic. “First time for me.” He laughed at himself. “Sounds weird, right? Allegedly, I’ve been doing this for a long time. I got my big break at a little café in the East Village. Used to play there every Monday night. Or so I’ve been told. I don’t remember much about it. Too many drugs. Too much wine.” He lifted his glass and drank. “Typical rock star. But being here tonight surrounded by my favorite people feels a lot like being home.” He swept his arm across the stage, gesturing to the guys in the band and then the audience. “And for someone who has been trying to find their way back home for a long,longtime, that’s an incredible feeling.”
Applause. Cheers from the crowd.
After he introduced the band, he strummed his guitar. “We’re going to play some new music tonight but let’s start out with a little bit of soul. Not sure who wrote this song, but I heard Lorraine Ellison’s version a few weeks ago and it hit me right here.” He pounded his fist against his chest.
