Page 34 of Songbird: Black Kite
“Sure,” he said, looking around. “In the meantime, if you are interested, I have some pit passes for you.” He paused, then went on. “Not your boyfriends, though.”
“Holy shit,” Bri breathed, her hand reaching for the lanyards the guy was holding out. “Are these real?”
“They are,” he said. “And you’ve got ten seconds to decide if you want them before I move on to the next hot chicks I see. I ain’t got all night.”
“Fuck, yes, we want them,” Bri said with a squeal, taking them both and looping one over her neck before passing the other to me. “This is unbelievable!”
“What do these mean?” I asked, feeling like an idiot.
The guy rolled his eyes, but smiled lightly.
“They mean you get to go to the VIP pit on the floor. You get standing room only access up front.”
“Like, we’d be close to the stage?” I thought I was going to pass out. “No way!”
“Yes, way,” he replied mockingly, and I shot him a glare. I was excited; sue me. “You’ll be so close, the guys just might sweat on you.”
“This rules. Thanks, random grouchy guy, whose name I don’t know,” Sabrina said with a small salute, causing the guy to shake his head at her before he turned and walked away.
He’d only made it a few steps before he paused and turned back.
“The name’s Charlie. If you stick around the pit after the show, I might have something else for you, too.” He winked at her and vanished into the crowd.
“Oh, my god, Bri!” I said breathlessly as I slipped the lanyard over my head, admiring the badge proudly declaring us VIPs. Abandoning the drink line, we started making our way through the concourse, looking for the floor access. “I can’t fucking believe this!”
“The stars are aligning for us, babe,” she replied, wrapping her arm around my neck and pulling me close. “This is gonna be the greatest night of our lives.”
Once we made it to the pit entrance, we flashed our badges, nervously waiting to see if Charlie had been lying to us. But the security team manning the gate simply nodded and pulled back the chain, letting us through and into the bustling crowd. Looking around, I could see exactly what the guy had meant about looking for hot chicks. More than half the crowd was made up of ridiculously gorgeous girls in varying states of undress. As I stood there, taking in the worldly beauty and confidence of the other women, I self-consciously tugged at my skirt, wondering what the hell I’d been thinking, dressing like a slutty schoolgirl when I was anything but.
Sabrina caught me staring and elbowed me, shaking her head.
“Not tonight, woman,” she said knowingly. “Tonight, you are not going to feel anything but amazing. It was your birthday last week and we are here to celebrate. I will not have you disappearing into your head when your boy is about to be right fucking there!” Lifting her hand, she pointed to the stage that was literal feet from where we stood.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly excessively dry.
I was about to be in the same room as Hawk Jameson, and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. My poor brain was still trying to process the fact that we’d even gotten our hands on our original nosebleed tickets. But now, here we were, down in the pit, close enough to freakingsmellthe band, and I was afraid I might actually lose my mind.
But the time to worry about that was past, because the lights of the arena started to dim and the crowd went wild, the roar deafening as twenty thousand screaming fans all joined in chorus, expressing their shared ecstasy over being at aBlack Kiteconcert. I could feel their emotions, the noise of the crowd a physical thing as the sound vibrated along my skin, sending goosebumps up my arms and making my fingertips tingle.
Being there, in that arena, at that moment, was pure magic, and I reached for Sabrina’s hand, squeezing tight as the opening act took the stage. We danced and sang, jumping around like lunatics and reveling in the atmosphere that only a rock concert could provide. By the time the first act had cleared the stage, we were sweaty and thirsty and laughing our asses off. Fortunately, the party pit also had it’s own bar, and we were able to score two bottles of water without having to leave and face the crowds again.
“This is it, babe,” Sabrina said, whisper-shouting in my ear as the lights dimmed again, that living hum making its way through the arena and sliding over my skin like a whisper. A chant ofBlack Kitewent up from the crowd, the whole place shaking as people clapped and stomped and shouted for the show to start.
The stage was dark when the first notes of the guitar rang out, the crowd instantly recognizing the song asInter-dimensional, one of the band’s biggest hits off their first album. I couldn’t see Alex because the entire stage was still shrouded in darkness, but I could imagine him, legs apart, head down as he worked his fingers over the fretboard, the notes flowing effortlessly from his hands.
Shortly after, Gavin joined in, the heavy beat of his drums melding seamlessly with Alex’s guitar, and I could feel the smile that had taken over my face.
I was here. This was real.
Then it was Lewis, his bass complimenting the other two instruments and adding depth to the sound, and as the introduction portion of the song finished the lights came up and, suddenly, he was there.
The man I’d been writing to for years. The person I had shared my hopes and feelings with in a way that had sometimes seemed more like a journal entry than a conversation, one I’d needed more than I’d ever admit.
His lyrics had spoken to me on a level that was soul deep, and for the first time in my life, I laid eyes on my hero, a man who I worshiped with a passion that would be embarrassing if he ever knew the true depths of it.
Hawk Jameson.
Chapter twenty-one
