Page 82 of The Final Deal

They spin around, and Mom launches into a tirade. “What the hell is going on? This has never been a part of the show?—”

“Back off,” I bark at her angrily. “We’ve got something special planned, and this is all part of it.”

“The hell it is!” she screeches. She turns around and snaps her fingers at Robbie, who’s gesturing for roadies to drag the last carcass toward the stage. “Robbie, take all that shitdown, now!”

My brother cocks his head and rests fists on his hips. “Last I checked, y’all retired and don’t run NYB anymore.”

“Maybe we don’t run it anymore, but it’s stillmyshow,” Mom snarls. “Neither of you know half the shit your father and I have done to get NYB to this point.”

An incredulous smile forms on my face. “Oh, please tell me all about the sacrifices you made for NYB,” I say sarcastically. “I’d love to hear it.”

Mom sputters, and Dad intervenes, “You know what she meant?—”

“No,” I interject. “Not really. But I need you both to get off stage so everyone can do their jobs.”

I push past my parents and head even farther backstage, where Abjured and their crew are preparing to take over the stage for their impending set. Brandy flits around them with her camera, capturing the band hyping themselves and their crew up as if her and my brother didn’t have a huge falling out hours ago.

The guys start shoving each other around, circling and pushing faster until they create their own circle pit. I cross my arms and chuckle, smiling at the sight and laughing when Trip lives up to his name and trips, having to roll out of the way of the stampede so he doesn’t get trampled. He jumps up and immediately rejoins the circle as if nothing happened. Gradually, the energy dies down into gentle shoves and hooting and hollering.

Charlie’s emblazoned gaze sets in on me, and his grin widens. “Yo, Steph!”

The group gathers their things and starts heading in my direction, everyone greeting me in some way as they pass; everyone except Charlie, who pauses in front of me. He glances behind me—I guess at the two bodies who’ve been on my heels this entire time—and juts his chin in their direction as if to say, “What’s up?”

“You ready?” I ask.

“Hell yeah,” he replies. “Get ready to have your mind fuckin’ blown.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say under my breath as I push him toward the stage. All the new bands say something similar. He takes off like a toddler excited for Christmas.

A mouth comes close to my ear. “Babe, what’re you doing?”

I twist my head to peer into golden-brown eyes that worry over me. The anger and upset is no longer there, replaced instead with deep concern.

Glancing down at his pierced lips, I lean in and kiss them softly. And, God help me, Zak kisses me back.

I pull away, saying loud enough for him to hear, “I’m saving Timeless.”

Forcing myself to walk away toward the stage rips my heart in two, but it’s showtime.

On the side stage, Charlie jumps up and down with his guitar hanging off his shoulder, giddy and excited for the stagehands and roadies to finish up. It takes another minute for the last of them to head offstage, and the lights dim, leaving us all in darkness except for roadies with flashlights and the crowd with their phones up in the air.

Trip sneaks onto the stage without a light, stumbling over his own feet on the way to his kit, but he manages to find the throne.

Then, Charlie and Martin run out on stage while shredding their opening riffs, and Jay trails behind and growls into his microphone. Stage lights reveal Abjured taking the stage for their first song.

I smile at Charlie and crew going wild out there, living up a dream moment in their career.

Maybe it’s fucked, but they signed up for this just as much as I did.

Either we all go down together, or we work with the shit hand we’ve been dealt and make it work in our favor.

“Thank you, San Antonio!” Jay yells into the mic breathlessly after they end their first song. “We are Abjured, and we’re here to blow your fuckin’ brains out with metal.”

He growls the last word, dragging it out long and deep until the crowd screams in acclamation.

Damn, he can work a crowd.

And that’s exactly why I picked them for this.

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