Page 31 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
I can’t deny things are different than last year. Somehow the energy changed during the time I was back in Seattle with my family. I can’t help but wonder if, in the space I left behind, Felicity’s presence is propelling them into who they are meant to be and has reshaped itself without me.
Leaving me to figure out who I am outside the bubble of loving Padraig.
Fireball Isn’t some scrappy project anymore. They’ve worked hard in a short period of time developing a distinct sound. Padraig is in a creative bloom, writing songs and creating potential logos. Liam’s guitar and vocals are maturing. Felicity’s haunting alto wraps around their Celtic rock-meets-grunge vibe like velvet over steel.
It’s real and exciting and I’ve kept my promise to help. They’re playing every weekend for the rest of the semester. Frat parties. Dive bars. Campus events. An upcoming wedding.
I do it because I love them.
No, because I lovehim.
The truth is, I’m good at it. Booking gigs, wrangling logistics, herding three creative minds, it comes easy to me.
So much so, I’ve locked in my major. I’m studying Hospitality Business Management. In two years, I’ll be staging galas in five-star hotels, orchestrating destination weddings, and running fundraisers where everything sparkles. I sit in class envisioning soaring hotel lobbies and linen-draped banquet rooms. I map out timelines and venue layouts like I’m already orchestrating million-dollar events.
The problem is, instead of keeping up with my coursework, I find myself immersed in their band shit. Padraig behind his kit, drenched in sweat and joy, is more alive than I’ve ever seen him. Music softens Liam’s edges…
They’ve had a rough few years and it’s amazing to see them coming into their own.
“Babe?” Padraig steps into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and barefoot. His jeans hang low, an old flannel is open over his lithe, bare chest. “You seen my new drum head?”
I nod toward the couch. “Leaning against the couch.”
“You’re a genius.” He grins and leans down to kiss the top of my head. “I’m heading downstairs.”
“I’ll be down in a sec.” I gesture to my coffee.
“Bring it with.” He squeezes my shoulder and I dutifully follow him to the basement.
It’s a mess of amps and cables and empty fast food containers. Felicity’s perched on the stool in a track suit, her long black hair pulled into a high ponytail. She chews on her thumbnail, waiting for the guys to start.
Padraig replaces his drum head and sets the click track. Liam hits the first chord, nodding to Felicity. “Okay, from the top.”
They launch intoBreakwater, a new tune with soaring harmonies and a fiddle hook emanating from Padraig’s Logic sampler he uses to recreate the instruments they don’t actuallyhave right now. Felicity’s voice cuts straight through me. It’s wild how fast she adapted her jazzy riffs to suit Fireball’s Celtic sound.
The rehearsal continues in fits and starts. Felicity fiddles with her mic levels. Liam tries different iterations of a bridge he swore was final. Padraig moves through it all with a quiet intensity, knuckles tight around his sticks. Everyone’s exhausted, but committed.
To finish the session, they run another new tune,Tir na nÓgand the whole garage vibrates with the thunderclap rhythm Padraig and Liam built months ago. Felicity nails the final note, delicate, mournful, lingering, then it’s done.
“Yeah.” Padraig pulls off his headphones. “I think it’ll be ready for the next gig.”
I nod from my perch on the amp. “It sounds great. It’ll even get better when you play it live a few times.”
Truthfully, the song is more than great. It’s haunting. Melancholy with an undercurrent of rage. It makes you stop midsentence, midstep, mid-anything, and when it’s done, it lingers in your chest.
Rather than acknowledging me, though, Padraig glances at Liam and Felicity. Like he needs their opinion more than mine.
Going forward, this is how it’s gonna be from now on, I realize as I trail behind him upstairs. My emotions are confusing. I’ve always rejected the idea of being their manager. I turned down the lead vocal position about a million times. The idea of touring has no appeal.
At the same time, in a few short months, Felicity’s now their third. A true, permanent member of the band. She deserves to have more of an opinion in her role so it’s probably as it should be, but it stings a bit.
Once upstairs, Liam wastes no time and takes off. Felicity disappears into her room. Padraig and I order a pizza and watch TV for a bit, then go to bed early.
We shower. Fuck lazily. Afterward, we lie tangled in our sheets, half-asleep.
“Something’s different.” I stroke little circles around his nipple.
His chest rises under my palm. “What d’you mean?”
