Page 3 of Whirlwind

The crowd sang back to Myles. Jude and I moved to the front of the stage. I flung my head back, my wet hair cold on my neck. I focused on Myles’s singing, and I jumped in. A little late on the verse, but fuck it, I was in. My voice lower than usual. Myles caught my gaze and he drove us to the finish, his voice soaring on the last verse.

The crowd yelled, swallowing it all. The lights flashed on, flooding us in bright.

“Hello, Denver!” Myles yelled back. “So good to be here with you on our last gig of the Upshot Tour!”

I went over to the bottle of vodka and drank more. Jude took it from me and swallowed deep. Myles finished up his heartfelt spiel, as Zack and I locked gazes, nodding at each other. Zack thundered on his drums, a blur of movement, and I took in a deep breath and jammed down on my chords.

The one thing that never disappointed me was the music. Composing, playing, practicing, performing. All of it. It never failed me. Right now, I needed to burrow in it more than ever.

Jude hopped in the air. Myles positioned himself in front of his mic stand and let loose his firepower. I stepped back and grabbed the vodka from the top of the speaker and swallowed more.

Thank fuck.

Twenty-two more songs to go.

2

Beck

“Thank you, Denver!”Myles waved to the crowd with both his hands.

The four of us, wired, exhausted, buzzing stood at the edge of the stage. The roar of thousands of people, all of them standing, yelling, clapping for us. For our music. For the past two and a half hours that we’d given them.

Every time it amazed me.

Every time I was moved, ecstatic, grateful.

Now, I was grateful it was over.

Shame stung my insides at the knowledge. This tour was the stuff dreams were made of. It had been a sold out success, making money, money, money for all of us, our management team, the record company, and everyone else in between. The album had seen a resurge on the charts as well.

I should be down on my damn knees with gratitude. Nope, if I did that, there’d be no way I could get up again.

The house lights switched on as Jude, Myles, Zack, and I broke our line and headed offstage.

I handed my guitar off to Dan as I wiped the sweat from my face and grabbed a cold beer. Slaps on the back. High fives. The adrenaline coursed through me as I tracked toward the meet and greet area with everybody. I needed more booze. Now.

VIP guests swarmed the big space. Bright lights. Photos. Flashing. Squeals. Questions. Phones in my face. Enthusiasm like a narcotic, but I was full up.

Fangirls came rushing at us.

A girl sidled up to me. “Beck, you’re so hot up onstage. You’re amazing! You’re my favorite. Love you so much! Autograph my chest?”

A crowd of girls smashed around me in the blur.

“She’s an idiot, Beck!”

“Let me show you, Beck I’ll make you feel so good.”

“She’s a fucking bitch. You’re better off without her.”

“She doesn’t deserve you! I bitched at her on Twitter. I hate her now! I’m boycotting her next album! She’s so fucking canceled.”

I stopped listening. I couldn’t listen. I’d shut off my switch. I’d developed a switch years ago. I couldn’t take this in right now. My hands rubbed over my scalp as I took in a breath.

I posed for photos, an endless stream of photos.

Grin.

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