Page 1 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

One

Even on the hardest night of the year for me, the show must go on.

Methodically, my fingers moved over Vicki, my bass guitar—complete with the half-naked mermaid I’d sketched on the back when I was seventeen, drunk, and stupid. I played the low, dirty notes that served as part of the intro to “Stripped Away,” our surprise new radio single.

This far into the show in the city, our home base, the crowd couldn’t get enough. They were screaming, chanting, sweat dripping down the faces of the fans pushing against the barrier. A few of the luckiest ones had been selected to dance in a glowing, revolving cage in a corner of the stage. Some would leave and others would join before the end of the concert. It was something we’d tried on a whim last year, and now the crowd clamored to take part.

Lindsey, our lead singer, kept sliding that cage quick glances as she moved effortlessly across the stage, gliding on her mile-high purple suede boots. She smiled and laughed and sang every fucking high note as if she’d never faced a moment’s uncertainty in her life, never mind fear.

But that sparkling, revolving cage was a neon reminder that she’d barely survived the destruction wrought by a man who had danced on our stage last fall.

She could’ve put her designer heel down and said no. No one would’ve questioned it. There were other ways to promote, and we all knew what she’d been through. But she never suggested not doing it. She never backed down from a challenge and did what she needed to do to support our fans, just as they supported us.

Hell, they put in almost as much effort as the band, cheering, stamping their feet, singing along to every damn word. Even to the newest songs that had just hit radio, oh, seventy-two hours ago and the streaming services a few days before that.

It was gratifying and humbling as fuck. That bar kept climbing with every sold-out show and every hit record.

We were still touring in support of our last album, yet we were already dropping songs for the next. That was the world we lived in. Churning out music meant for snippets on SnapChat and dances created for TikTok.

Jamie vaulted onto the hovering mini stage that descended from the rafters as wild purple and green lights strobed over each one of us in turn. The lights circled her, illuminating her long dark and streaked blue hair as she took her stance with her purple electric guitar. She flashed the crowd a wicked smile before her fingers raced up and down the frets. The shredded notes from her guitar wailed through the arena and I followed her, a thunderous counterpoint, as Zane joined in from his spot on yet another raised dais. Together, the three of us built up the frenzy while the audience went wild.

Then it was Jamie’s moment. She owned the crowd, eating up every bit of their attention as her solo went on and on. She fell to her knees and curled over her guitar, playing so fast her fingers were nothing but a blur. Still playing, never ceasing for a second, she rolled onto her back, her hair streaming behind her, that maniacal smile wreathing her face as she brought down the goddamn house.

While they were still cheering, she leaped down and grabbed Lindsey. They brought their heads together, one dark, one light. Jamie led the next song, our last before the encore, one from our first album we only brought out on certain nights.

“Untrustworthy” was a quiet, acoustic-driven song, at least at the beginning. Lindsey’s lyrics were low, mournful, her hands, clad in black lace fingerless gloves, caressing her mic as if she was praying.

Can’t trust you

Don’t want you back

Can’t trust me

My body still craves that

Your touch, your mouth

Your skin up against mine

>

Your heart, lying every time

The bass came alive in my hands, dragging me through the song although I was unwilling. I didn’t want to go there tonight. It wasn’t as if I was suffering from some romantic heartbreak—that was rarely a part of my life, and for good reason—but the words still pulled at me. I knew all too well about memories you couldn’t force yourself to forget. Thoughts that plagued every time you closed your eyes.

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