Page 133 of Dirty Rock

You had to give them an encore at Encore!

When Presley stood up over his kit and pulled the standing mic down, away from our voices so no one could hear, he leaned in towards me and the rest of the guys.

“Rhett, what’s going on?” He frowned. “We’ve got one more song.”

“I know, I know.” I grinned, gasping for air and pushing the soaking wet strands of hair back from my face. “I was wondering how you guys felt about mixing it up?”

“Now?” Hawk screeched.

Presley chucked his chin. “What you thinking?”

I glanced around each and every one of them. “Remember that song we tried out once? The one about time. You think you can work that out off the cuff?”

“Fuck, man,” Big D hissed. “Do we have to do this tonight? Can’t we just play it safe?”

“When the fuck have we ever played it safe?”

He didn’t respond to that. None of them did. I threw my arms around Coops and Hawk’s shoulders while eyeing the other two.

“Come on, fuckers. Give me this, and I swear to Christ, I won’t ask anything of you again.”

Presley’s smile erupted. “Do it, man. Tear shit up.”

“Ah, Christ,” Hawk sighed.

“Here goes nothing,” grumbled Big D.

“I knew I should have become a science teacher,” Coops muttered before turning his back on us.

I focused on Presley, whose toothy, mischievous grin matched my own. I held out my hand, and he slapped his to it before he squeezed it tight and gave it a subtle shake.

“Be good out there, Ryan.”

“It’s the only mode I have.”

With a laugh, Presley brought his standing mic back to his lips and sat back on his stool while the others worked out the chords on their guitars.

“Hey, Encore! How’s shit treatin’ you?” Presley asked smoothly. “We have a brief interlude while the lead singer gets his balls readjusted. Are you ready for more?”

As always, the ladies in the park went insane for him. That suited me just fine. I strutted to the side of the stage, where Julia stood with a clipboard in her hand and a scowl on her face as she looked down the setlist in confusion.

“Don’t bother trying to figure out what’s going on,” I warned as I came to a stop in front of her. “Give me your hand.”

She narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak—to no doubt argue—before she cautiously reached out to take my hand and drop her clipboard to the floor.

“That was easier than I thought it would be.” Her trust meant everything, and it showed in my shit-eating grin.

Walking backwards, I slowly guided her out onto the stage.

The crowd quietened somewhat, even though a few began to cheer louder the second they saw Julia walking out there. Sure, she’d seen this viewpoint from the side of the stage a hundred times over. Sure, she’d stood in the middle of it before the shows during soundcheck, but Jules had never seen it alive like this. Where you’re standing on a platform in the middle of a moving, living beat. Where you can feel the quake of the earth around you as the dancers danced and the singers sang. When you feel the screams of your fans penetrating your skin.

Jules turned towards the noise, and her lips parted as she took it all in.

I guided her to the middle of the stage, just in front of Presley, before I brought the microphone to my mouth and kept my eyes on her.

“Baby,” I said into the mic with a smile on my face. The noise from the crowd grew in a second.

Her head slowly turned back to me, and my super cool-looking Jules seemed, for the very first time, intimidated.

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