My blood runs cold, my heart starts hammering even harder than before and while ninety percent of the people in this crowd are wearing black so in theory it could be anyone, I don’t see any other hoods. And I sure as fuck don’t see other people wearing a goddamn mask that looks like a void or thick gloves in this hotbox of a venue.
Just when I’m about to scream at our family to move out of the way, when I’m about to grab the boys and show them what I’m seeing, the house lights drop and everything goes black.
Shaking my head, I strain to see through the darkness, trying like hell to find those two, fuckingtwohooded nightmares, but I can’t.
I don’t see anything at all.
Did I just hallucinate that?
That would suck a big fat flaccid cow dick because I haven’t had visual hallucinations in years but that has to be what just happened.
Nerves. Nostalgia. The extreme happy meeting the deep sad. That’s all it was, I’m sure I didn’t actually see anything.
Not that I really have time to process shit because one by one the tiny lights along the edge of the stage start to glow purple, and that’s our fucking cue.
The crowd goes ballistic as we quietly take our places, none of them fully able to see us but they know what’s coming.
I shake off that weird feeling, the way my stomach pitched and tightened, the leftover fear, and I stop in front of the mic, glance at each of my boys, then I do what I was born to do.
“Good evening, New Orleans!” I say in my most sultry tone as the spotlight above me comes on. I grin as the crowd comes unglued, incoherently screaming back at me when I growl, “I said, good fucking evening, New Orleans.”
Popping the mic from the stand, I walk right up to the edge of the stage, winking at our crew and ignoring the pang of sadness that hits my heart before I crouch down and let this shit consume me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you because I said—” Every single human in the sea of bodies practically roars, and I can’t help the way it makes me laugh. “That’s more like it. I was starting to think y’all forgot who the fuck we are.”
One by one, cell phones come out and as their screens light up the entire venue in wave after wave of movement, I become Leonor Poe once again.
“Now, in case y’all did happen to forget who we are and what we do,” I say as I start walking from one end of the stage to the other. “Or maybe you’re new to our kind of shitshow, let me take a few minutes to refresh your memories and blow your fucking minds.”
Mark’s bass starts up as I walk toward him, my teddy slapping out an angry line of notes as his light comes on to my left. I smile like the woman in love I am as I grab his beard and kiss him hard, sucking on his lip briefly while the crowd pops. “This beautiful bear of man who’s going to make you vibrate all the way down to your soul with his baritones is our very own, Markus Favre!”
Planting one more kiss on Mark, I run to the right side of the stage and scale the amp, drop to my stomach and rest my chin on my hand while dreamily staring at Pete, who starts strumming to match my teddy then kisses me nice and fucking slow.
“Providing rhythm,” I pant into the mic and jump down, backing away from that dark look on his face with a smirk. “The man moving your hips while you dream of his lips, Peter Lagrave, y’all!”
I watch two of my boys move to the center, their lights following until the one in the middle of the stage comes up, shining on our sweet boy as his teal eyes practically glow.
“Shredding your faces off in the sexiest way possible.” He dips his chin as he cups my cheeks, delivering another kiss that has me seconds from losing my composure and changing the kind of show this is. “Norman Nodine!”
The crowd loses their goddamn minds as the three of them take center stage together, syncing their movements perfectly, filling out the long intro of the song we’re about to play.
“Last but not least,” I say as I run to Lucky’s platform and jump up behind him, wrapping my arms around his neck andkiss his scar. “Beating your fucking hearts out is the luscious and lethal, Lucky De la Grange!”
He spins on his stool when I try to get away, grabbing me around the waist while he starts banging his bass drum, kissing me so fucking hard I lose my balance a touch when he rights me on my feet to get down.
I am not going to be able to kiss them all like that at every show.
It makes me all kinds of loopy and I don’t need another reason to have an achy pussy while we play.
Damn, I’m already sweating.
Tip-toeing my way to the front of Lucky’s platform, I stop in front of the bass drum and look out into the crowd, watching as hundreds of people scream our names. I smile as I scan the sea of heathens, lifting the mic to my lips and dropping my tone. “In case you were wondering, I’m Leonor Poe''—another pop from the fans—“We are The Ravens.” I turn around and climb up on the bass drum, looking at the entire venue over my shoulder then growl, “And this isYahtzee, Motherfucker!”Before I do a fucking backflip on that very fist beat drop.
Fuck, I’ve missed this.
37
MARK
