Page 72 of Fa-La La-La Land
Stella reaches for me but drops her hand. “I can’t guarantee no one will record you, Rhys, but you know how I feel. I think you should do your songs.”
“Too risky.” I shake my head and avoid her gaze.
Behind me, Bear clears his throat. “No pressure, man, butwithout Seb, our playlist is pretty limited. We’ve at least practiced your songs and can get by without him on those, but the show’s going to be short unless we find songs that don’t need bass and are simple enough Adam and I can sight read or play by ear.”
“Or, we can cancel if you want,” Stella adds quietly. “You don’t need to risk your career to thank a couple of people who were only doing their job.”
Adam and Bear nod in agreement. I look from them to the people sardined into this space—the smallest venue I’ve ever played. Folks who came here in the middle of a major snowstorm to hear me sing. People who’ve been nothing but decent since I’ve been in Paradise.
“Yeah, nah, let’s do it.” I give them a list of my songs they can play by ear or sight. “But I’m steering clear of ‘Fa-La’ or ‘December Dreams,’ all right?”
In less than twelve hours, I’ve been very publicly rescued from a tree and then confessed my love to my girlfriend, who “likes” me. Not exactly a banner day for the ego. If I could go back and do things differently, I would.
But deciding to play this show—that’s the one good call I’ve made today. I might be humiliated and heartsore, but the buzz in this room’s enough to jolt me back to life. If I can’t fix what’s broken, I can at least sing it out.
After tonight, maybe I can move on. Keep things professional with Stella while she figures out what she wants. Get the career back on track. Focus on what I can actually control. But tonight…I’m giving these people the best show I’ve got.
Half an hour later, I stand at my mic. The crowd quiets, but the room still buzzes with electricity.
“Cheers for coming out tonight,” I tell them. “My name’s Rhys James.” The crowd roars, and I wait for them to quiet. “Reckon most of you came to see Seb Sparks…” Laughter, hoots, and hollers bring a smile to my face.
“He’s snowed in down in Florence, and I can’t play bass to save myself, so if it’s all right with you lot, I’ll fill in with a few of my own tunes.”
The crowd cheers, setting me at ease. I spot Liv and Jax and wave. “Got a few requests from our local firies—Liv and Jax—who you’ve probably already heard dragged me out of a tree today.”
The crowd laughs again. I’ve never done this in front of people before—joking around, just being myself. Usually, every moment of my set is scripted to the second. That’s how Danny likes it. It’s how I thought I liked it, too.
But this—this feels really good.
“They’ve requested ‘Pretty When You Lie.’ Everybody okay with that?” The crowd erupts. Above all the voices, I hear Stella cheering. I play the first few chords on my guitar.
“You got it, mates?” I ask Bear and Adam.
They answer by jumping right in, and I start to sing. They make a few mistakes, but no one in the crowd seems to mind—or even notice. They’re singing along, and I don’t know if they can hear anything but themselves.
After that song ends, we play a couple of Adam’s and Bear’s usual numbers, some classics I know and love but have never actually played.
Stella watches from the crowd, and even with the lights in my eyes, I can see something in hers that gives me more hope than I had this afternoon…or even a few minutes ago. Then I remind myself I’m on stage. This is the Rhys she’s always been in love with—the fantasy.
After a few songs, some of the more vocal folks in the crowd call out my old hits: “Forever Starts Tonight,” “Heartquake,” and “Electric Touch.” So we sing those next. I know them sowell, I could do them in my sleep, including the choreography. It’s all muscle memory, going through the motions.
My eyes, though—along with my head and my heart—follow Stella. She walks through the crowd, reminding people to put away their phones, still doing her job even after we fought. On her way back to her spot directly in front of me, she catches me watching her.
Her mouth spreads into a soft smile. Not the polished one she gives the world. This one’s only for me, and it’s stronger than any spotlight. When she cups her fingers into a heart, it hits deep. That’s all I need to know. I can wait for her to catch up—to realize she’s in love with me too.
When I hit the last note of “Electric Touch,” the crowd chants for “Fa-La La-La Land.” I’m sure Adam and Bear could play the original version—it’s easy enough. But Adam strikes me as a bloke who can hold a grudge, and I’d like to stay on his good side. I like him.
And I especially like his cousin, and I know which version she wants to hear. I step up to the mic, heart thudding. “I’ll give you that one—but I’ve got to tell ya, there’s another version. Mine. Wondering if you’d rather hear that and tell me what you think.”
There’s a beat of silence. Then one person yells, “Let us hear it, Rhys!” Then everyone joins in, chanting, “Rhys! Rhys! Rhys!”
I sit at the piano, fingers hovering above the keys, trembling at the risk I’m taking. I glance at Stella. She looks as nervous as I feel, but she shoots me a confident grin, like we’re in this together. I guess that’s all that matters.
The crowd goes quiet when I begin. I don’t know if that’s a good sign or if they’re shocked it’s so different from the original. It’s slower, moodier. They can’t sing along like they would’vewith the pop version, or with any of the other songs I’ve played. So I can’t tell if they like it.
But when I look at Stella, I realize it doesn’t matter. She’s the only one I’m singing for. Even if everyone else hates it, at least she loves it. She believes in it.
When I finish, there’s a long silence. Then the room erupts with cheering, shouting for more. The applause crashes like a wave, then stops cold as every mobile in the room buzzes at once.I don’t have mine on me, but Stella pulls hers from her bag, reads it, then looks at me. I know right away the predicted blizzard’s hit. She walks up to the stage and whispers to me and Adam and Bear.
