Page 101 of Voice to Raise
And I loved her for it.
We stood near the back of the crowd. In the middle of it, Mama wouldn’t have been able to see. Too close to the stage and I worried she might get jostled. She might be a hearty and healthy woman, but she was also on the delicate side, and I worried about her all the time.
She’d hate me if she was aware.
Instead, I said I wanted to be far enough away so I didn’t distract Malik.
Mostly bullshit.
In truth, I didn’t want to be a distraction. I also wanted to see the entire stage. Pauletta had let me know they had quite a production set up including a film of sorts being projected behind the band.
I was intrigued.
Creed strummed the first few notes of a song I didn’t recognize.
The entire group steadfastly refused to share a few of their new songs with us. If I’d attended any of the concerts in the past two weeks, I might’ve heard some of them. I was dealing with some tricky legislation, though, and hadn’t been able to take the time away. Even being here was a pain in my ass, and I had more paperwork to look at before the weekend was over.
Mama elbowed me in the ribs.
“Hey.” I scowled.
She pointed to the stage.
Malik stared right at us. Almost like his gaze had been magnetically drawn to me.
He sang a heavy metal song about the pain of unrequited love.
Although I was fascinated to watch him, Creed pulled my attention. Something in the way he played his guitar…it felt authentic. Pain-filled.
“Oh, my dear boy.” Mama’s words came to me almost as a whisper. Miraculous I could hear them with the deafening sound around us.
“Will he talk to you?” I shouted the words in her ear.
She shook her head. Then shrugged. “It’s Creed—who knows what he’ll do.”
That was true. He could be as hardheaded as Malik when he wanted to be.
The song ended, and they transitioned into one of their classic head-banging rock songs.
Mama bopped to the beat.
I was pretty hopeless, so I just sort of swayed. A white dude with zero rhythm.And how’d you wind up with a musician exactly? Oh, right, he chained himself to a bridge in the name of the organization you hold so dear. Right. Almost forgot that little tidbit.
In truth, the year had flown by. Exactly a year ago, he’d stood in my office and pled his case. Or, perhaps more accurately, demanded I allow him to do more. Then the confrontation at city hall, the epic kiss, the quiet meeting of the minds, him coming to my condo…meeting Moses and making sweet love to me. All of that felt like yesterday while also feeling like a million years ago. All those months apart had given time a weird, elastic quality. When I focused on the fact we had the rest of our lives together, things felt more manageable.
Or so I told myself.
“Okay, happy to be here, folks.” Malik grinned.
The crowd roared its approval. Almost sixty thousand people made a hell of a ruckus.
“Let me introduce my bandmates.” In turn, he said each one’s name, and they strummed, keyboarded, or drummed their appreciation. “And I’m Malik. Lead singer and guitarist.”
Another roar.
“But I have a secret to share.”
My interest piqued.
