41. Mai
Mai
Mai played with her heart and soul, and every time nerves nipped at her, she had two anchors.
She could look out into the audience and find Gloria, who would grin back, either blowing her a kiss or raising a glass.
Or she looked at Ford, who seemed tuned into her, and knew whenever her gaze snagged on him, and instead of singing to the crowd, he would turn and sing to her.
She was hot, sweaty, and her fingers hurt, but despite the occasional flutter of fear, she didn’t want to stop.
There was a commotion over by the door, and Mai peered to see what was going on, but even standing on the stage, she couldn’t make it out over the heads of the crowd.
Glancing over at Ford, she saw him frowning in the same direction. Mai tried to ignore whatever was going on and kept playing.
They finished the song, and Ford began to talk to the audience, but she didn’t listen to him, as now the music wasn’t filling the pub, she could hear the raised voices; someone was not happy at all.
“Let go of me, you piece of shit,” a man yelled.
Mai stood on tiptoes, trying to make out what was happening.
“It’s a Midnight Thunder concert. I’m part of the band. Stop fucking touching me!” the voice rang around the pub, and the previously jovial room quietened down.
Oh shit. It was Ryan.
Wasn’t he supposed to be in rehab in Switzerland or somewhere?
Ryan came storming through the pub.
Why hadn’t they stopped him?
Mai knew the answer when she noticed a young skinny bloke following in his wake, ineffectually asking the guitar player to leave.
“Oy. What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing?” Ryan shouted. “Letting that bitch play in my spot.”
Mai winced. She’d known he would be furious about the whole situation with the band, but she never imagined that she would have to face him.
“Ryan,” Ford said. “Now isn’t the time or the place.”
“Really, you tool! You replace me, and I’m not allowed to have an opinion? This is my band. You have no right.” Ryan arrived in front of the stage, glaring up at them.
“Ryan. Maybe we should go somewhere private,” Ford tried again.
“Nah, mate. You made it public. So I’ll keep it public.” Ryan’s eyes flared, and spit flew out of the corner of his mouth.
Ford looked across at Mai, their eyes locking for a long moment before he turned back to his ex-bandmate.
“Oh, now I understand. She leapt into bed with you, and I get kicked out!” Ryan scoffed. “She always was a slut. Rubbing herself up against you because she knew she wasn’t talented enough to be in the band if she didn’t sleep with the lead singer.”
Mai flinched as if he’d slapped her. Someone shot to their feet at her friend’s table. Frost was standing, his face like thunder.
The next part happened so fast that she didn’t have time to react.
Ryan’s rage swung from Ford to her, and he snatched a beer bottle up off a nearby table.
Their eyes locked, his full of anger, and he snarled at her, then flung it.
She was so shocked that she didn’t move, even as the beer bottle hurtled towards her.
Before it hit, a warm body was in front of her, gathering her up into their arms.
It was Ford.
Ford was in front of her, shielding her from the glass bottle. There was a dull thump when it crashed into him.
“Shit, Sie. Are you okay?” Ford breathlessly murmured in her ear.
She pulled back to look up into his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Where did it hit you?”
“Back of my shoulder,” Ford muttered.
Mai blanched. Her face was level with his shoulder. If he hadn’t leapt in front of her, that bottle would have connected with her face.
She peered around Ford when Ryan cried out.
“Get off me, you giant shit.” Ryan was writhing in the very firm grip of Frost, who held him off the floor, dangling by the back of his shirt.
“Nope,” Frost said. Then looked up at Ford and Mai. “I’m kicking him out. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure,” Mai called back.
Frost escorted Ryan towards the door of the pub, with Donnie on their heels.
Only then did Mai become aware that she was still in Ford’s arms. She pulled back slightly to look up into his eyes.
“Hey,” she said, smiling at him. “Is your shoulder alright?”
“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m just glad it wasn’t your face.” His hand came up to cup her cheek.
“Yeah,” Mai whispered.
Her breath hitched, and the noise of the room faded. All she was aware of was one of Ford’s arms around her waist and the other hand touching her face.
She stared into his grey eyes, and couldn’t work out how the girl she was sixteen years ago managed to walk away from the man holding her now.
He was home.
He was her family.
A smile tugged up at the corner of his mouth, and before she could take another breath, his lips met hers in a gentle kiss.
Ford pulled away too quickly, searching her eyes, and Mai grumbled at him, putting both her arms—which had been hanging by her sides—around his neck and tugging him back to her so their lips met again.
Time became meaningless for Mai as she made up for the sixteen years they were apart.
When Ford pulled away from her, she murmured in annoyance. But then the noise of the room full of people filtered back in, and she realised she could hear cheers and whoops, which were all coming from her friends.
Oh my goodness. Was she really up on the stage in front of a pub full of people, making out with Ford?
For a second, mortification prickled at her skin. But when she gazed into his eyes, everyone watching them didn’t matter. All that mattered was him, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “I never stopped loving you.”
“Thank fuck for that.” Ford’s thumb brushed over her cheek. “I’ve loved you for more than half my life, and I will love you until the end of our days.”
Mai blinked at him a couple of times as tears pooled in her eyes.
Home. They were home.
“Don’t cry.” He wiped her tears away.
“Sorry,” Mai sniffed. “These are happy tears.”
“I need to get a new tattoo,” Ford murmured as he dabbed at her tears.
“Why?” She leaned into his hand where it touched her face.
“I got this after you left.” He pulled his arm back to show her the tattoo on his forearm that was usually covered. “It’s where I last saw you.”
Mai’s eyes widened. The tattoo she’d noticed backstage at the concert…it was for her.
“I guess I’ll have to add Burra Creek’s location to it.”
“Where you found me again,” Mai whispered.
“Yup. Where I found the love of my life.” He leaned forward and kissed her again.
She couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. How had she been so lucky that he could forgive her?
“Hey, guys,” Scotty called from his position behind the drum kit. “I don’t mean to be that person. But this is getting awkward.”
Mai’s tears dried up, and she began to giggle, suddenly aware of her guitar pressed painfully between them. She gazed up at Ford, and while she wanted to keep on kissing him, she would prefer to continue somewhere more private.
“Let’s play,” she said and tried to pull out of his arms.
“Nope.” Ford leaned down and gave her another toe-curling kiss before he said, “Now we can play.”
He released her and went back to the microphone. “Well, everyone. That was more eventful than I thought tonight would be. Usually we have undies chucked at us, not bottles,” Ford joked.
Mai couldn’t resist, she said into her microphone. “Like the undies with your faces on that you were selling at your show?” She giggled as she recalled the merchandise store and the display of Midnight Thunder underwear.
“My wife is hilarious.” Ford rolled his eyes.
Mai froze. Had he just announced to a room full of people that they were married? She examined her feelings about everyone knowing and realised that she didn’t actually care.
He turned to her and widened his eyes. Mai shrugged and smiled in return, then leaned forward to her microphone, saying, “And that is a world exclusive.”
A grin pulled at her mouth. She used to love calling him her husband and found that she still did.
Mai chuckled when Joel chose that moment to play the first few bars of the wedding march on his bass guitar.
Glancing over to her friends, she saw Gloria, Hel, and Sadie were all giving her two thumbs up each, which made her laugh even more.
This was a very bizarre evening, but Scotty didn’t give her any more time to think, as he began drumming, playing the next song on their set list.
Her fingers moved of their own accord, and she played the song she knew so well: Summer Days.
Ford didn’t stay in the centre of the stage like he normally did. He stepped across to her microphone and sang to her the song they wrote together, which started everything for the band.
The rest of the songs passed too fast, and she marvelled as Ford kept the small audience in the palm of his hand—chatting, singing, teasing—and best of all, stealing quick kisses with her whenever he could. Every time he did, the whole room cheered, and Mai blushed with happiness.