Page 129 of Reverb
Some of the nerves fled. Zavier was being Zav and trying to control the situation, and that was so normal. She took a swig of water, grinned at him, and headed back to the front of the stage.
She met Ray and Dom halfway there. Ray slung his arm around her shoulder. “You ready for this?”
“I don’t know, kiddo. You think I have the chops?” Singing, sure. Playing, yes, of course. But singing and playing a song she’d had a hand in writing? Maybe—maybe not. This was the first time they were performing it outside the practice studio. Hell, they hadn’t even played it at warmups.
It was Domino who punched her in the arm. “Mish, you’re in fucking Twisted Wishes. Of course you have the chops!”
Ray laughed. “Let’s light ’em up.” He headed back to his mic, while she and Domino danced around each other, playing little riffs.
“You’ll slay them,” Dom said. “They’ll go home singing your song.”
Maybe. No—yes. They would. They had this.Shehad this.
She danced up to the front of the stage as Ray took his mic in hand. “Hey, you ready for a brand-new song?”
Of course the crowd went wild, though she guessed most of them figured they’d sing something from the demos for the new album that had been “mysteriously” leaked onto the internet. Adrian’s doing. But notthissong. This one they’d kept under wraps until tonight, their last tour date before they recorded a new album over the winter.
She plucked at a few notes on her bass and peered out into the pit. The stage lights made it almost impossible to see past the first few rows. She shaded her eyes.
“You’ve never heard this before.” Ray dropped his voice, and somehow the audience quieted a little.
Out beyond the pit stood David, his arms crossed over that sinful body of his. Light glinted off his face from someone’s camera flash, and there was his smile, the one that crinkled his eyes and made her heart soar.
As the band’s security advisor, David didn’t need to be out there; he’d hired a whole team to keep the band safe. But he always watched them—her—perform from out in the audience. One fan she knew would be there.
She blew him a kiss, then stepped up to her own mic. “Ray and I got a little creative together. His music—my lyrics. My song.”
The fans screamed and pounded. Behind her, the familiar clicks of Zavier beating out the rhythm, and then they launched into “Walk to the Sun,” her bass line a counterpoint to Zavier’s rhythm. Domino came screaming in with his guitar, and when the time was exactly right, Mish opened her mouth and sang the words that had been in her soul.
Taste a dying dream
Sadness on tap
No way to mend what is gone
Or fill a void with no end
Take my hand, show me the sun
Walk this path
I am not alone
With you by my side
Fill my soul tonight
Drink the past and future
Show me hope
Together we are one
Ray joined in on the chorus, once more tossing an arm around Mish as they sang and she played. It was perfect. Magical. Every moment of her life seemed to lead to this one, here on this stage with her voice spinning out into the crowd, mixing with Ray’s, her hands playing the notes he’d laid down and they’d all perfected. Domino’s guitar. Zavier’s drums. The band that was her life and her family. Adrian and Marcella stood in the wings.
And David—her David—was out there to hear her sing and play. To see that they were safe, night after night. He’d comehome. They’d all come home.
Tears blurred her vision when she finished and the audience exploded into shouts and stomps and screams.
