Page 47 of Sustain

Mackenzie

Before Ian can even fully register the enormity of the fresh disaster, I step forward, gripping his arm. It’s my turn to play the hero in this whirlwind of madness.

“As it happens, the pyro crew rigging up the Crows’ finale sequence owes me more than a few favors,” I say, offering Logan a friendly elbow nudge as he passes by, lugging equipment.

I hold Ian’s gaze, refusing to let him get mired in whatever guilt or stubbornness might hold him back from accepting my aid. “I’m sure with some creative coordination, we could arrange some shared fireworks that don’t conflict too disastrously across our sets.”

I watch a tangle of emotions play across his features. Gratitude wars with pride at accepting my rescue line. He attempts a roguish grin, but obvious weariness dulls his bravado.

“While I appreciate the gesture enormously, borrowing your team’s victory lap spectacle feels somehow...” He pauses, searching for diplomacy, “well, tantamount to admitting defeat prematurely, doesn’t it?”

His wince gives away that he’s clinging foolishly to a lost cause. I soften my voice further, hoping to convey faith rather than pity for what he’s going through. I know well how razor-thin that line is that he’s walking.

Pride is a bitch.

“Consider it less surrendering than securing reinforcements when you need them. No one doubts Chaos Fuel’s abilities, or yours for that matter, if and when this festival finally launches.” I risk a comforting hand along his arm. “But even legends need back up against impossible odds sometimes.”

The barest spark returns to his gaze at this, something easing behind that formidable facade. I recognize the peace you can find in leaning into someone who intuits your sensitivities, your vulnerabilities, and offers unconditional aid. I recognize it because that was me just days ago with him taking care of me. It wasn’t easy to let someone help. Like him, I’m too damn independent.

But sometimes, you just have to give in.

Ian clears his throat gruffly. “Right then. I suppose it beats sending poor Vicki on an explosives smuggling operation across state lines.”

Relief lifts between us, and I can sense a brief but much-needed reprieve before diving back into the relentless tide of the commotion around us.

We just need to get through this show.

What’s the old saying?The show must go on?

thirty-two

. . .

Light Up the Sky

Ian

Just before showtime, I turn to face my cobbled crew. Logan bounces on his toes itching to slay, steadfast despite this not even being his real band. His excitement is infectious, and I love his enthusiasm. My motley trio is somehow sober today by some festival miracle, but I’m not looking at the proverbial gift horse anywhere near the mouth.

“Right mates, eight minutes to show. But I’ll skip the play-by-play, you knuckleheads can’t follow instructions anyhow.”

A round of obscene gestures gets laughter flowing, bleeding nervous tension away. That’s more like my idiots. I soak up the camaraderie before their next implosion goes off. With these guys, it could happen at any moment. That’s not lost on me. That’sneverlost on me.

“I’ll just say get out there and kick some teeth in, yeah? Like your lives depend on reminding the world who the fuck you are, alright?”

Rowdy cheers shake the thin walls of the trailer we’re using as a dressing room. Logan gnashes his pick between sharp teeth. “Hell yes. Let’s fucking burn this place down.”

I hustle their chaotic energy toward the stage before it combusts backstage first. And before anyone gets the idea in their head to take Logan literally, which I wouldn’t put past any of them. It’s time for the phoenix to rise for real, or go down in the mother of all flames.

I can feel my chest tighten, preparing to hold my breath the entire set. I won’t rest easy until they finish the last note of their last song. And even then, whatever rest comes will be temporary, I’m sure.

I glance left, scanning the bustling wings for a trace of that distinctive splash of violet in the sea of roadies, when a light touch at my elbow redirects me. Mackenzie’s trademark smirk tilts playfully.

“Looking for someone?”

I drink her in, chaos settling simply to share space with her again. “Brilliant, was hoping you could sneak a peek. Best seats for scrutiny are right about... here.“ I gently tug her toward the partition dividing us from thousands of eyes awaiting the band’s intro.”

I maneuver to spotlight her reaction as the MC finishes the intro and the band takes the stage. For all my snags securing this Hail Mary, nothing compares to Mackenzie’s unguarded happiness at this moment. Her lips part in surprise hearing the first tremors of the crowd, raucous and loud despite the chill in the air. To anyone else, I’d chalk her theatrical awe up to showmanship or even mockery. But I recognize the bone-deep relief of hopes rewarded after countless thankless miles paved by her to get here. No critics or cynics can diminish the shine of the hard-won victory sparkling through her gaze. I’m sure my face mirrors hers right now.

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