After a quick chat with Everlyn,the three-member band who’s opening for us on this tour, we head into the green room to wait. I never get nervous before a performance, and that’s because I’m always prepared. Tonight is different.
I’ve memorized the music, and I know my part, but I have no idea what it’s like to perform to a screaming crowd. I’ve only played for reverent orchestra goers. I haven’t ventured out of a practice studio with these guys. Do they follow the set? Improvise on the spot? I’m used to a conductor, someone who calls the shots and keeps the music on track. Questions and possible scenarios for how this could go wrong spin in my mind on a loop.
Damn. Is this what performance anxiety feels like? In all my years as a classical concert pianist I’ve never felt this much pressure. To battle my nerves, I tap out the set on a pair of rubber practice pads, going through the entire show, but it barely eases my building fears.
The guys sip beer and watch the Giants game, shouting obscenities at the screen every few minutes as if they aren’t about to kick off their next North American tour. It’s almost go time. I expect more enthusiasm. Partying? Shots? Something. Instead they appear more chill than ever. We all might as well be sitting in a sports bar.
My cell buzzes with a text alert.
The Devil: Meet in five. Restrooms south of green room.
My uncle. I’d rather not deal with him, now or at all this evening. But considering how incessant he is when he wants something, I better get it over with. Setting my sticks on the table, I push off the couch.
“Everything cool?” Sean tips his chin.
“Yeah, gotta piss.” I start for the door.
Trent blocks my path with his arm. “You sure? ’Cause you don’t look so great.”
“Twenty bucks says he’s gonna puke.” Austin laughs.
“It’s okay, man.” Trent appears genuinely concerned. “Aust pukes all the time before shows.” He bursts into laughter.
“I do not!”
“Not anymore, but you used to.” Trent rolls his eyes, and before I can dart out of the room, he turns his stare back to me. “Sure you’re good?”
“Yeah. I’ll be right back.”
Sean grimaces, offering what must be his idea of sound advice. “Just let it all out. One and done. Then get your ass back here.”
I nod and shut the door behind me, exhaling a sigh of relief that none of them decide to follow me out. I walk south, glancing around to make sure no one watches while I search for my uncle.
“There’s the rock star.” He steps from behind an alcove.
“Hey, Bedo.” The nerves I worked so hard to keep at bay come rushing forward. I feel like I might faint.
“Ready?” My uncle furrows his brow, his voice turning hard. “You better not—”
I lift my hands to stop him. “—Fuck this up, I know. And I won’t. Give me some credit.”
“You’re right. I apologize.” He gives me a onceover. “Eyeliner? How Duran Duran.”
“That all you wanted? To bust my chops?” I raise my brows and nod back the way I came. “I’ll be on my way.”
“No.” Bedo grabs my elbow before I turn. “What’s with the girl?”
“Girl?” I furrow my brow, but I can guess exactly which woman he’s referring to. “You mean Opal?”
“Yeah. What’s her deal? Why did Trent insist she come along as his personal assistant?” He lowers his voice and takes a step closer. “He’s looking to make a move, isn’t he? Break away from the label?” There’s a desperation to his words that I’ve never witnessed before. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. But then I remember who I’m talking with.
An impulsive need to protect Opal rushes through my mind. It’s odd. I don’t know anything about her other than I’m insanely attracted to her. I shake off my feelings and shrug. “I don’t know, but she’s hot. Got that whole innocent act down pat.”
His lips pinch together and he smacks his pointer finger into my chest. “Oh, no, you don’t. Stay away from her. You are here to help, not cause more trouble.”
“Funny.” I force a chuckle through my lips. “I thought I was here to play drums.”
His brow pulls with his frown and he takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “Don’t forget why you’re here.”
