Page 81 of The Final Deal

“This isn’t funny,” Gigi frets. “If those are going up because of what’s happened at the bridge…”

I shrug the comment off as I observe the blood splattering all over the techs and stage. Cleanup is going to be hell. “What can I say? Deathcore bands can be dramatic. I need to get up there.”

Gigi’s voice grows shrill as I walk away. This isn’t a joke or a game to me—my entire fucking life is on the line.

Standing people bob their heads and sing along to the intermission music of Tears for Fears, laughing as they shout the lyrics louder and louder and jostle each other around playfully. That’s what I’ve always loved about New Year’s Ball beyond the music: the camaraderie is unmatched in this scene. The love for music—major, indie, unsigned—is all the same.

Closer to the stage but on the outskirts of the crowd, a familiar tall and lanky figure topped with a small girl with long brown hair catches my attention first.

My feet come to a complete halt at the sight of two girls flocking the twins.

Be cool, I tell myself as they lift up phones to take selfies. They’re working—it’s cool.

But when the phones come down and their arms linger around their waists and Zak and Adrian’s arms don’t drop from their shoulders, my body automatically hauls ass until I tap on their shoulders.

Zak takes a quick glimpse over his shoulder, and when he sees me, he immediately turns around, making the girl move away a smidge. Adrian looks over, too, and makes an “Oh shit” face that I don’t miss.

“I think it’s time for y’all to move on,” I warn, glaring at the girls.

The one who was holding onto Zak sneers and cocks her hip until she’s grazing his body. “Who do you think you are?” she questions as the other girl frowns at me.

“I’m the wife,” I say. “Now fucking move it.”

Drea gasps. “Abby, that’s a bad word!”

“Sorry, baby,” I apologize, glaring at the girls slowly lingering around my men. “Just have to make sure people know your tios are mine.”

“I told them, but they didn’t believe me,” Drea says.

I can’t help the smirk. “Did you really?”

“Uh huh!”

The girls linger, so I reiterate: “Leave.”

They both look to the twins, who no longer acknowledge them—their eyes are only on me. So the girls grumble under their breath and begrudgingly amble off into the crowd.

Even with music blaring and a crowd clamoring all around us, it’s all background noise as I watch the twins watching me, summing them up on the day everything will change—either for better or for worse.

“Really enjoyed that middle finger earlier,” Adrian says with a small smirk.

I chuckle softly, but the smile falls away as quickly as it appeared the longer I stare at them. After a long moment of metal-filled silence, I admit, “I miss y’all.”

“What are you not tellin’ us?”

Zak’s sight burns on me hotter than the August sun. I peer between them at the stage, where multiple flashlights blink and swing wildly on the side stages as they direct bloody deer carcasses and the roadies hanging them.

“You’re about to find out.”

The walk is long and treacherous through a crowd that thickens the closer I draw to the stage. Someone gasps and yells, “Hey, Timeless!”

A small group waves at us, so I wave back until I realize the twins are following me and also wave.

Despite skirting around the crowd to hit the working corridor for venue staff, pushing forward is like trudging through mud. Two distinct voices start yelling, screaming for stagehands to stop.

I rush backstage. Mom and Dad are hollering and pointing. “Stop! Take that down! This isn’t part of the fucking show!”

“HEY!” I shout, startling them both.

---