“Ha-ha,”I chided bitterly, while my heart plummeted to my stomach at the mention of hername.
“Youguys ready?” Ty asked. “We’ve gotta get to soundcheck.”
“Uh,soundcheck?” Grey questioned, a nervous tremor lacing through his words. “I’mnot allowed to be there, right?”
“No,it’s cool.” I shrugged. “You’re coming with us.” We began moving toward theairport door, and he practically skipped along beside me.
“Seriously?”
“Hellyeah.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulders. “Maybe you can jam with us too,if these guys are cool with it.”
Tylooked over his shoulder at me and said, “I dunno if you wanna do that, bro. Imean, if the kid has chops, we might be dumping your ass to bring him onboard.”
“He’salready less annoying,” Chad muttered.
“Yo,”I tightened my arm around Greyson’s shoulders, “I wouldn’t even care. Grey istalented as hell. I mean, he has to be, when he has my genes swimming around inthere.”
***
Istood at the edge of the stage, as I waited for Devin to get his perfectionistass situated. I looked out to the rows of seats, then the dual balconies, andbelted out a few bars from Collective Soul’s “Needs.” The acoustics in the oldtheater were out of this world, and my voice floated through the aisles.
“Shit,that’s beautiful. I think I just got hard,” I muttered to the front row.
Greysoncocked his head. “I didn’t know you could sing, too.”
“Whatcan I say?” I shrugged. “I’m fucking gifted.”
Istepped onto an amp and sang the first verse to Soundgarden’s “Black Hole Sun.”Devin uttered a “fuck yes” from behind me, and picked up at the chorus,strumming his acoustic in time with the song. I clapped my hands in self-applauseas our voices and the guitar faded into the auditorium.
“You’regood, but not Chris Cornell good,” Chad assessed with a scrutinizing nod.
“Damnstraight, Chaddington,” I agreed. “Nobody sings like him anymore.” And I tippedmy head back, to send a salute toward the ceiling and beyond.
“Okay,you guys ready?” Devin asked, turning to glance at Ty, Chad, and me.
“Oh,well, I should probably be sitting behind these things over here first.” Ijumped off the amp and ran over to the drums in the back. Sitting on the throneand grabbing my sticks, I shouted, “Aye, aye, captain!”
Devingave me a thumbs up and then pointed. “Count me in.” And I did, hitting mysticks together—one, two, three—and I rolled into the beat for his song,“Edge of a Blue Existence.”
Lookingout from behind the jungle of drums and cymbals, past Devin, Ty, and Chad, I couldsee the head of Greyson, sitting beside Kylie. I watched him as he listened, boppinghis head to the music, and I was instantly pumped full of pride for what I do. Ifelt the encouragement to hit harder, play better, and I imagined this must beexactly how Devin feels, every time he looks into the front row and sees Kylie.
Itwas the best feeling in the world.
Onesong flowed into the next, until Kylie apologetically interrupted and told Devinshe needed to take the antsy Olivia out for a bit.
“Noproblem, baby,” Dev answered, blowing Olivia a kiss before his two leadingladies left. Then, Dev crooked his finger, beckoning Greyson up onto the stage.“Kid, get up here.”
“Seriously?”Greyson asked, his eyes searching to meet mine from behind the drums.
“Ifthe boss tells you to get up here, then you get up here,” I told him, and witha nervous look in his eyes, Greyson complied.
“So,your dad tells us you play,” Devin said, placing his hand on Greyson’s shoulderand steering him toward where I sat.
Greynodded, staring at Devin like he was a god. “Yeah, I’ve been playing for like, fiveyears now.”
Glancingat me, Devin asked, “He any good?”
Igot up from the kit, walked around to them and handed Greyson the sticks. “Youokay playing righty?”
