Risky Rockstar: A Hero Club Novel, стр. 20

have some time to gather myself. This part of the show always gets to me, and I have to choke down the lump in my throat. Jeff wipes a stray tear from under his eye without missing a chord on his guitar. I know this means as much to the guys as it does to me, but I know this means more to Jeff. We don’t know much about his early years other than he was adopted at four after a tragic start to his life, but we don’t push. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.

Without so much as a signal, we end our instrumental with a collective beat. The tingle I always get tightens at the back of my neck and corkscrews down my spine, my nerves singing along my arms. The cheers grow to a fevered pitch, but it’s nothing to how they sound when the recording of the violins start playing and the crowd realizes we’re about to start the show with “Tapping Out.” We make our way to our other instruments, and I start us off, my finger gliding over the keys. Jeff joins in next with his bass, followed by Josh on lead. Finally, Keller pounds out his beat, and I start singing the first verse. When we get to the chorus, Jeff and Josh join in. Keller has an incredible voice but chooses not to sing. He prefers to pound away on his drums with no distractions. I get lost in the music and the sound of six thousand plus people collectively singing the lyrics to the song that made it happen for us five years ago. The song ends and I’m inhaling like I’ve been starved for oxygen when actually, I’m breathing for the first time since Benji blindsided us. For about five seconds, it seems like the crowd is holding its breath, and then it comes, like one mass exhalation, and the roar and cheering tsunamis over the stage.

I walk to the mic stand at the front of the stage.

“Thank you!” I raise one hand as the screams begin at last to subside. “Thank you, seriously! I wish…I wish you could feel what this feels like right now. What it means to all of us.” I place a hand on my chest as I look at my bandmates. Keller is nodding emphatically; the teddy perched in his pocket looks like it’s nodding too, and I smile. Jeff’s hair glistens with sweat as he grins out at the crowd. Josh blows a kiss, resulting in another bout of ear-piercing whistles.

I raise my hand to silence everyone because I need everyone here to know just how important they are to us. “I just need to get through the serious stuff, and then I swear, I won’t quiet you again.” The crowd stills, and I grin at them before growing serious. “I need you all to know that what you’re doing today isn’t taken lightly. By us, or by the kids you’re bringing love and joy to. Kids who’ve gotten a raw deal out of life and need a time-out from all the bad shit that’s happening to them. But I know I don’t have to tell you that. I know you get it or you wouldn’t be here today. We want you to know that we won’t forget this. Or you.” My voice breaks for a moment, and I pause, scanning the faces in front of me, all reflecting what we feel in our hearts onstage. Eyes glistening with tears meet mine, and we’re not LP-45 and their fans. We’re one body, doing our best to bring joy to those whose bad days make ours look like a day at the beach. “So thank you, from the bottom of our hearts, for being here. What do you say we get this party started?”

An eruption of sound greets my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Josh flick a guitar pick at the crowd. He keeps a dozen or so in his pocket and when the mood strikes, throws a few out to the screaming fans. As always, fans scramble for the plastic pick, and Josh smiles, leaning down to touch the hands of a couple of girls in the front row. He nearly gets hauled off the stage by an overzealous fan, but Evan—our head of security—scrambles to release him from her hold. This happens nearly every show; girls drop panties for Josh like autumn leaves in a gale. Maybe it’s the combo of dark, clean-cut, boy-next-door good looks and the gauges in his ears. Maybe it’s his goofy grin. But whatever it is, he relishes the attention.

Jeff starts us off with a few bass notes, and I unclip my mic from the stand, running my hands through my hair. I start jumping up and down to Keller’s beat as the words to the first verse stream out my mouth. I look back at the guys. I’m met with three sets of grins matching my own. I know I’m not speaking only for myself when I say this never gets old. The surge of adrenaline, the words of the crowd singing along hitting our ears, the beat of the music ricocheting over our bodies like a collective heartbeat—all bringing a new wave of gratitude for being able to do what we love, every goddamn day.

It doesn’t matter if we’re playing to ten or ten thousand, the feeling stays the same.

Chapter 7

Hayley

Holy crumbs I have goose bumps everywhere. Kade’s introductory speech punches me in the gut and fills me with so many feels that I’m struggling to swallow right now. I even caught Kevin wipe under his eye a moment ago.

Ever since I saw the “Lack of Evidence” video, I haven’t been able to get LP-45 out of my mind, so the day after our dinner at the diner, I told Kevin I was thinking of collaborating with them and asked him if he would like to come with me to the