28. The Second Song
28
THE SECOND SONG
PRENTICE
It hurt to see Mal.
He played “Street Dancing” with his usual excellence. His pounding beats made it impossible to sit still. When the audience was pulled to its feet, I went, too, but I knew there was something different about him.
The mane of dark hair—check. The strong neck, broad shoulders, wide chest—yes. The eyes, flashing and beautiful, still there. But where was the laughter? The joy? Was that it? Was that what was missing?
I had to remind myself when I watched Aftermath play that Mal was hiding a well of fury so deep, he’d played me just to get at his half brother.
Somehow, the thought had lost its sting. I watched him make even staid cameramen and show producers in headsets rock to the beat, and I wondered, how could this anger create such joy?
Had I misunderstood something?
It was possible the skits that followed were riotously funny. Perhaps they were timeless classics that would be enshrined along with the cheerleaders and Bill Murray on the Auto Train, but I couldn’t relax enough to take them in. I laughed when everyone else laughed. I clapped when everyone else clapped.
And I noticed when stagehands on the darkened part of the stage rearranged the Aftermath equipment. What was that about?
“Weekend Update” was witty and clever, and I pretended I was enjoying it too. Mostly, I took my cues from Gerta on one side of me and O’Connor on the other.
Then the handsome action-hero host stood in hot spotlights and spoke simply. “Once again,” he said, “Aftermath.”
The crowd, primed by the joy of “Street Dancing,” shouted in approval, but Archer broke from tradition. He held up his hand and spoke to the crowd first. “We have a new album that came out today, and we hope you all like it. But here’s a song that our drummer, Mal, wrote after the album was done, so consider this the world premiere. Hope you like it.”
What? What new song?
The lighting changed. Instead of the brilliant spots that made Archer’s golden beauty flame, the stage went to a serene blue. Ian began with a slow, liquid run on his guitar, and Archer picked up the bass line. And Mal?—
Mal swiveled. He rolled his stool over a few feet and ended at a piano.
He placed his hands on the keys, and Ian and Archer dropped their sound to a background rhythm. Sexy, slow, anticipatory.
Mal began to play, and Gerta took my hand.
The music that poured from his fingers raised the hairs at the base of my neck. The melody was simple and lovely. As he went on, he began to embroider the song until he’d added flourishes and cascades of sound. It was classical music, Chopin and Schubert and Mozart updated for the modern ear.
And still sexy. Slow. Haunting.
When he finished, the tension broke in the audience, and people screamed their delight. Mal listened with a faint smile. Then he pushed back to the drum kit. Ian took up the melody on his guitar, and the three of them turned the song into a rock ballad.
I was crying before Mal began to sing.
There’s a darkness that can blot out all light
When you never see sunlight, then darkness feels right
All my life, the blackness came from within
Rage, fear, violence, a competition I can’t win
His voice was clean. Calm. The pain in the words came out in his intonation, but he wasn’t limited by it. He sang of the fury that had shattered our relationship.
When the next verse started, something subtle happened. Maybe it was a key change—maybe just the addition of soft harmonies from Archer and Ian, which grew until the end of the verse ended in glory.
But even the longest night has an end
A finger of light, a mysterious portend
And then the leap into the bright
A dazzling, blinding, rapturous sight
Catching the laughter in blue eyes
Like sapphires at sunrise
The melody changed as they reached the bridge. Again, Mal sang alone of the transformation he’d gone through.
I was healing even before the secrets were told
The power had weakened, the darkness less bold
I was just too stupid to know it
He searched the audience as he sang, and I was pulled to my feet without thinking. The people behind me hissed for me to sit, but Gerta silenced them with a curt command.
Even though the lights, Mal must have seen me. He focused on me and sang the last verse to me. I saw him through the tears rolling down my face.
For so long my heart’s hatred held sway
But I swear I can learn a much better way
I will cherish the light if it doesn’t go out
I will work every day for I can’t do without
The laughter I crave in those blue, blue eyes
Shining like treasures, like sapphires at sunrise
When he finished singing my heart into shreds of hope, the audience rose to its feet, and I was lost in the crowd. But I knew.
I knew I needed him.
I fought my way out of the row, various members of Archer and Ian’s families clearing a path for me, and I tried to push the ushers aside who blocked me from the door Gerta had gone through earlier when she went to see Mal and I hadn’t.
“I have to get back there,” I said.
“Back to your seat, lady,” one of the ushers said, “or we can escort you from the building.”
And then Mal was at the door, reaching for me.
And I reached for him.
And we came together.
His arms were so strong around me. His chest cradled me. His kiss claimed me and made me cry in gratitude.
Distantly, I heard murmuring; someone had noticed that the Aftermath drummer was halfway in the audience. The sound spread. Then we were caught in the glare of a spotlight and a handheld camera pushed into our embrace.
The applause grew, and Mal looked up. He grinned and pulled me through the door, which the ushers shut firmly.
“Prentice,” he breathed when we were alone in an industrial hallway.
“Mal,” I cried.
“Please don’t leave me. I do love you, I swear. It has nothing to do with those . . . ugh. I don’t want to think about them. It’s just you. All I want is you. Please. Please don’t leave me.”
I shook my head and nodded, and the message might have been confusing to anyone else, but Mal knew I was pulling him to me, pressing myself to him. “I love you, Mal. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank god,” he whispered, and then he kissed me until I was too dizzy to stand on my own.
“So,” Archer said. We were no longer alone in the hallway. “The song worked, huh, Brother Malachi?”
Mal held me to him strongly but released one arm to shake Archer’s hand and then Ian’s. “Thank you, guys.”
Ian nodded at Mal and then at me, and Charlotte licked my elbow. Archer’s glee was pure sunshine.
“So, Prentice,” he said. “Gerta is moving to LA, and Aftermath is going with her. You’re coming, too, right?”
Happiness bubbled out of me. “I’m going anywhere he is,” I said.
“Thank you,” Mal whispered.
Archer swatted at my shoulder. “You’ve got to give O’Connor the exclusive on that smooch we all saw on-screen, Prentice. You’re going to be famous.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “How’s the sailing in Los Angeles?”
Mal grinned at me, and I knew our future would be bright skies and fair winds.
The End