“No doubt.” Drew shrugged into his jacket, preparing to leave. “I’ll be back later on tonight. In the meantime, get some water in you. Haven’t seen you drink since ten AM, and I saw the whisky tumbler in the sink.” He stared at me in the exact same way my dad used to when I’d pinch pieces of chicken from the freshly cooked bird before Mum served it for dinner.
“Yeah, uh…”
“Come on, Hu. We’re three days pre-performance. Stop fucking around.”
“Right. Yeah,” I said, my voice sheepish, gaze sweeping the floor. I stepped aside as he reached for the door.
“And steam your cords while you’re at it. Drop of lavender. Twenty minutes, at least.”
I couldn’t stop the huffing sigh that blew through my nose. “I know, I know. I’m on it.” Jesus.
He patted my arm, gave me a final admonishing glare. “I hope so. Catch you later.”
I nodded, couldn’t be arsed speaking, then slammed the door behind him with a little more force than intended. I might not excel at social interaction, may have problems controlling my emotions, but I didn’t need reminding how to do my fucking job.
There were no words to describe the moment right before running onto a stage. I’d had a taster yesterday during rehearsals and soundchecks, but it couldn’t compare. Tonight, the arena was alive, bursting with love, trembling with the screams of thousands of people. I loved it. Breathed for it. The noise of the stage hit me differently. It was predictable. Expected. I was in control up there.
The atmosphere overflowed with passion. I ran out to a thunderous reception. Feet stomped, hands clapped, throats squeezed out yells, chants, and lyrics that were once only ideas in my mind. It was intoxicating. Magical. I was immensely grateful to these people. They’d changed my life, and I always made a point of telling them as much at the end of every show.
My concerts were always a spectacle of light and colour and fun, a representation of the feelings I wished I could express in my everyday life. On stage, I could. The adrenaline transformed me into someone else entirely, someone who’d never known anxiety, never felt nerves, self-doubt, or fear. I was a showman up there, my inhibitions tucked safely away behind the stage door. I lived for those moments. On the stage, arms stretched wide, chest open and welcoming to the masses of support and anticipation surrounding me, I felt powerful. Proud. I felt…like the man I’d always wanted to be.
But tonight, you could strip all that away without carving the slightest dent in my exhilaration. Because tonight, only one person amongst the thousands before me mattered. Tonight, every song, every breath, was for her. My best friend. The girl, woman, I owed it all to.
Tonight, I played for Helen.
“It’s been too long!” I yelled into the mic, speaking directly to her and hoping she knew it. My eyes searched for her face, unsurprised yet still disappointed when they failed to spot her. She’d be there. I knew she would. “How are you doing tonight?”
The crowd went wild. Feet drummed harder, making the stage vibrate beneath my feet. Whistles blew and cries erupted. Voices yelled I-love-yous and I could only pray that one of them belonged to Helen.
With a smile that, in that moment, felt like nothing could ever erase it, I pushed the monitors into my ears, turned to Kendra on the drums, gave her the nod – a silent cue. The arena plummeted into darkness as she dove into an extended intro of Too Late Now. I’d flirted with many genres over the years, more so since I’d discovered creative freedom with my last three albums. Too Late Now was upbeat, it let the bass and drums lead the instrumentals and had a sort of soft rock vibe that pulled you to your feet.
Strobes of pink and green crisscrossed the stage. I ripped open the tailored leather jacket, a look inspired by the magnificent Freddie Mercury and the only item covering my chest, and shimmied over to Jay on bass guitar who’d just joined in with the beat. Aligning myself with her, I allowed the music to possess my body, rolled my hip, let the move flow through to my shoulder, flexed my arm and clicked my fingers to the rhythm. The feeling was everything. I danced forward, light on my feet and took hold of the mic stand, tapping my foot while I waited for my turn.
The crowd swayed and clapped, embellishing the melody with their own instrument. It sounded fucking amazing.
Raising my hand, I counted down the final beats in the air until I could let go, until I could rip the vocals from my throat and bleed my soul onto the stage. I inhaled a long breath, waited for that first strike on the keys…three, two, one…