Page 154 of Cherry Beats

He worked the crowd like they were puppets and he was their master, pulling the strings. They laughed when he wanted, and they screamed at his command. Women were combusting as they tried to get closer to him. There was no arguing that he was born to do this. Just the way Presley was born to sit behind those drums and collect those beats before tossing them out to his audience.

I watched as Presley took a drink from a bottle of water, pouring the rest of it over his head and shaking it out to cool down. I’d never wanted to be a droplet of water more before in my entire life.

“Not that my bandmates needanyintroduction, but let’s take a moment right here to let my boys catch their breath and say hello. Behind me on the right, we have our rhythm guitarist extraordinaire, the second and only… Mr Bradley Coops Cooper!”

Coops stepped forward, eyes focused on his guitar as he strummed out the rhythm of Youth Gone Wild’s songLittle Luck,finishing with a flair I hadn’t seen from him before.

Next up was Hawk, demonstrating his lead guitarist skills that made his fingers fly across the strings.

After that was Big D, the bassist of all bassists, stepping forward with his giant hands to strum out Queen’sAnother One Bites The Dust.

“And this man needs no fuckin’ introduction, right?” Rhett roared.

The crowd seemed to rise, their voices, hands, praise, and enthusiasm like a tidal wave of appreciation that was rolling towards Presley.

I watched as he leaned into his microphone, a soft smile in place and said, “Hey, MK Bowl. What’s up?” as cool as a damn ice statue that had the ability to melt panties.

“Presley! Presley! Presley! Presley! Presley!” they all began to shout.

“All right, calm the fuck down.” He smirked.

“Cool it, MK Bowl. Like that prick needs a bigger ego than he already has,” Rhett chimed in, earning a playful boo from the crowd before Rhett turned back to Presley and sighed into the mic. “Take it away, king!”

The man I loved spun his sticks in his hands and let them come crashing down against the drums. He was gone, in another headspace, when I realised what he was playing live for the very first time.

Led Zeppelin’sMoby Dick.The solo section. The bit he held sacred in his heart.

Goosebumps erupted all over my body.

The crowd silenced as he introduced the slow rise of the rolling beat, showing off his flair with a spellbinding subtlety that had the audience drooling as they watched him play. It was then I understood how much Presley was like that drum solo. Slow to build, his presence there, but you didn’t quite know the power of it until he’d built it too high, too fast, too wildly, and it all came crashing down on you in time for the guitarists to join in with him at the end, and the music set your soul alight.

He performed it more perfectly than he could ever understand, and the minute the band came to a stop together, the crowd went wild, thirsty for more, more, always more.

“He’s quite the showman, right?” Rhett asked the people.

“Excuse me… Rhett?” Presley said smoothly into his microphone, twirling a single drumstick in his free hand when he reached up to hold the mic and pull it closer to his mouth. The cameras zoomed in on his face, and I could see every line, crease, and bead of sweat there, as I shared those blue eyes with thousands upon thousands of people. “Aren’t we forgetting someone?”

Rhett spun around, his game face on. “Erm… I don’t think so.”

Presley rubbed his lips together and stood from his stool, pointing his drumstick at each member of the band, feigning concentration. “One, two, three, four… five,” he said, pointing the stick at his own chest. Presley’s smirk grew as he leaned into the microphone and cast his eyes in the direction we were standing in.

Oh my…

“There’s definitely someone missing,” Presley added.

“Damn, brother. Is this where you bring another girl out and declare love for her?”

The crowd laughed, and I felt my face fall, my chest tightening as I looked ahead.

Please, no. Please… no.

Presley scrunched up his face, wrinkled his nose and shook his head, making himself look too goddamn adorable. “Nah. Maybe I could confess my love for a man, though.”

“How the fuck could I forget?” Rhett slapped a hand to his forehead before turning back to the crowd. “We’ve got a sixth member of the band here with us tonight. Do you guys wanna meet him?”

I glanced at Molly, then at Bourbon, my scowl in place as I tried to understand what was going on.

“I said… do you guys wannameet him?”

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