Chapter 27
27
Caleb
The cheers from the crowd for Lime Velvet’s last song bleed backstage, and my mouth goes dry as I realize something is missing.
Before every set, the five of us used to stand in a circle and pass around gummy bears. The rules are simple: before you can eat one, you have to give a compliment to the person on your left—it was mostly just to hype one another up, but more than one argument had been resolved by a circle shout-out. It started before we even made it to the industry that first summer at camp, but we never missed it in the years we spent making music together.
The thing is, I always brought the candy. And when I realize I forgot, I really start to panic. I root through my bag, as if that shiny gold package will magically appear, and anxiety begins to blur my vision as I realize it’s in vain. I didn’t buy them.
If we miss this pre-show ritual, I don’t think I can go out there.
“I got you,” Keeley says, shoving a bag of Haribos into my shaky hands.
“Thank you,” I say, letting out a nervous laugh as some of the tension melts from my neck.
“I just…grabbed some as insurance when we went to get Carrie’s candy. Wouldn’t be right to skip band circle.” She says it casually, but if I know anything about Keeley, it’s that she’s just as superstitious as I am. I’ve never seen her play a Glitter Bats set without fresh aquamarine nail polish or the raw citrine pendant she wears on a cord around her neck, and she always takes time to run through the same rudiments on her drum pad before every sound check.
“You’re such a softie, Cunningham,” I say, trying to play it off like I didn’t drop the ball.
She rolls her eyes but yells, “Circle up!”
Riker and Jane come over, and Valerie materializes at my other side.
“I can’t believe it’s happening!” Jane shrieks, clapping her hands and pressing them to her lips with barely contained excitement. “Can I start?”
I offer her the bag cupped in two hands, like it’s a precious gift. She beams, the golden bronzer on her cheeks shimmering in the light, looking almost angelic with her gauzy cream dress. Keeley’s eyes go wide as she realizes she’s in the hot seat.
“Keeley,” Jane starts. “You are the best drummer I’ve ever worked with. You’re responsive and dynamic, and you multitask well enough to sing effortlessly on top of everything. You never miss a beat on- or offstage, and I’m constantly in awe of you.”
Almost reverently, Jane pulls out a gummy and hands the bag over to Keeley, whose cheeks have flushed bright red. Keeley turns to Riker, toying with one of the buttons on her denim vest with her free hand.
“Riker,” Keeley croons. “Despite your terrible taste in booze, you are one of the best people and collaborators I know. The way you anticipate our needs onstage is unmatched, and it’s one of the reasons the Glitter Bats have always worked . You’re the glue.”
“Aww, you’re too nice,” Riker wraps an arm around Keeley’s shoulders and squeezes quickly as she passes him the bag.
Riker grins, turning to his left. “Valerie! You never stop fighting for what you want, and it’s a marvel. I wish I had your drive. I’m so glad you brought us all together this summer, because I’m proud to make music with you and call you my friend.” Valerie reaches an arm up and boops Riker on the nose. He laughs, popping three gummy bears into his mouth before passing the bag along.
“Caleb Sloane.” Valerie pulls out a gummy, then locks her eyes on mine with a smirk, and my neck warms. “This summer reminded me how great it is to work next to you. Thank you for letting me drag you out here. You’re my favorite person. I can’t imagine doing this music thing without you, and I hope today isn’t an ending, but a new beginning.” She kisses my cheek and hands me the bag, and I try to ignore the way my heart races with nerves.
This is it. I turn to Jane, who is tearing up. Even as my pulse rings in my ears, it’s easy to compliment Jane. She really is the best of us. “Jane, you have taken this industry by storm, and it’s been an honor to watch you grow into such a powerhouse. I’m impressed that you even had time for this reunion, but we couldn’t have done this without you laying it down on keys.”
She beams at me. As soon as I eat my own gummy bear, we’re ushered to places by our tech crew. Usually, the pre-show ritual grounds me, but today, I’m still panicking.
This is our chance. I can’t let the band down. I can’t let Valerie down.
I’ve always been anxious, and then I left the industry. After all this time away, the pressure of one last performance is crushing, and even the most perfect schedule of taking my meds regularly can’t fix that entirely. But I have to work through it. While I plug in, I go through the square breathing exercise I practiced with my therapist. I try it ten times for good measure. When that doesn’t calm me down, I try my 5-4-3-2-1 coping technique, but I lose count of things I see as I stare at a chip in the black polish Keeley painted onto my nails this afternoon.
My hands are still shaking until I grab my bass—and then something snaps into focus, like the crack of a light stick in the crowd. I’m buzzing with the glow. Why am I trying all these techniques to control my brain when the music is my light in the darkness?
The Bianca Martin hit pulsing through the speakers goes quiet. The lights go down. A fog machine turns on, slowly filling the stage. There’s a sharp, collective gasp, followed by screams and cheers.
It’s time. We’ve practiced every piece of this set a dozen times, down to the minute, as if rehearsing a play, so we know our routes to each of our places by heart. We line up by the stage door.
First, Keeley steps out, ascending the drum platform to a thunderous roar of cheers. The spotlight shines right on her.
“How y’all doing tonight?” she asks into her mic. I can’t see her from this angle, but I know she’s shamelessly flirting with the audience, smirking and winking and strutting before she takes her seat. It’s her way, and the fans love it.
Jane is next, traveling to her keyboard setup on stage left, and through the fog I see her wave to the crowd. Riker follows his own path to stage right, and he whoops into his mic after he plugs his guitar in.
Then it’s our turn. Hand in hand, Valerie and I walk out onto the stage following the glow-in-the-dark tape set out by our crew. The rule is to never stare into the spotlight, but I can’t help but squint and look out at the crowd. It’s a sea of faces, mostly silhouetted against the stage lights, but I catch a few sparkling signs as we pass by.
The Glitterbugs are in full form tonight.
We plug into our respective cables, then turn to face the audience.
“Hi, friends!” Valerie says, before she strums her guitar once. The audience absolutely roars in response. “It’s good to see you again!”
I grin, taking my cue. As I approach my mic, the rest of my lingering anxiety melts away. I know how to do this.
“Good evening, and welcome to the Glitter Bats reunion show at Hollywood Stadium!” I pause to let the cheers around the room sink in. We’re surrounded by people who want to hear our music, and it’s the best feeling in the world. It’s why I wanted to make music in the first place—connecting with people. Telling truths.
I don’t think I realized just how much I needed to be in the band again until this exact moment. On the video screen, I catch my own gaze, and I’m almost startled by how happy I look. But I flash the crowd a sly smirk as I lean into my mic again, starting us off. “My name is Caleb Sloane—”
“I’m Valerie Quinn.”
“Hi, I’m Jane Mercer.”
“Riker Maddox.”
“And I’m Keeley fucking Cunningham!”
“—and in case you forgot, we are the Glitter Bats!” I finish. Warmth and adrenaline wash over me as I take in the moment. On this stage with these four people who are my family? I feel at home.
It’s an unexpected bliss. This makes sense. Me, my instrument, Valerie at my side, my band around me. I want to live in this moment forever.
“If you’re all up for it, we’re going to get started with a fan favorite,” Valerie says.
She plays the guitar intro to “Ghosts” with razor-sharp precision, like she was born for this moment. The fans gasp and shriek, the palpable excitement running through the stadium like an electric current. We all only have eyes for Valerie. She’s so incandescent with that violet hair in the glow of the lights that I have to remind myself to layer in the bass line as the rest of the band comes in.
But thank god for muscle memory, because my fingers know exactly what to do.
Valerie croons on the verse, singing and swaying and entering that magical state that happens to her onstage. Even staying close to the mic stand, she takes up space, using every movement of her body to engage with the crowd.
And they’re eating it up, singing along with every word, jumping up and down, waving their hands.
A thrill runs up my spine. I never liked the fame, but I liked knowing someone loved my song. Valerie and I cowrote “Ghosts,” like nearly everything we recorded, and the audience response after all this time feels so personal.
When I jump in on the on-the-nose chorus, I grin.
ten years from now will we be here
or will we just be ghosts?
spirits of love who never call
’cause it’s been way too long
oh if there’s space between us then
promise you’ll haunt me right
oh if this can’t be our forever
let’s be shades of night
It’s all a cheesy metaphor—it’s why Keeley calls Bittersweet our “goth rock phase”—and I sing it with my entire chest. I’m proud of this song. I’m proud of everything we’ve done, not just in the past, but this summer. It took a lot to come together again, and here we are in an arena full of thousands, proving we can and still rock together. Hard.
My chest warms as I glance around at my band, and then the roaring crowd in front of us. After the first few shaky rehearsals, we’re better than we ever were. Valerie plays her guitar solo with cocky grace, swinging her hair around in a way that completely mesmerizes me. Thank god Riker is doubling my vocals on the bridge, because I almost forget my part—I can’t look away from the rock goddess beside me.
Keeley takes the high harmony, giving Valerie time to regroup before the quiet chorus, and I nod my head at her.
The fans are expecting it—why make them wait?
“I’ve got the bass line if you want to go for it,” Jane says, whispering into the monitor mic, sensing what we’re doing.
I throw a thumbs-up behind my back, and that’s that.
Valerie grins, and it makes my heart race. As the music builds for the cheeky bridge, Val flips her guitar around her back and steps over to my microphone. I let go of my bass as Jane takes over the line. Valerie’s fingers brush against mine as she leans in, and I can’t help but wrap my hand around hers on the mic. Her gaze glitters on mine under the lights.
God, I’m the luckiest person in the world.
We know exactly how to sing this together.
Valerie starts:
oh I like the way you haunt
stand behind me in the mirror
with your hands around my waist
phantom fingers touch my skin
I respond with a smirk:
oh I like the way you haunt
underneath a sheet like Casper
stealing covers from my bed
when you moaned there all night
And then we join our voices in a bright unison up the octave, leaning so close our foreheads touch:
if only memories remain
please haunt me
I’ll haunt you
please haunt me
I’ll haunt you (you) YOU
I adjust the mic so I can start playing the bass again, angling it carefully between us. Valerie swings her guitar around to layer her part back in, and we transpose up into the next key and bring the lead lines back into the repeated chorus. The fans go absolutely wild as our sound gets louder and fuller. I’m at the top of my range where I know my voice really pops, and Valerie sings a tight harmony instead of the unison. Even with our monitors in, I know our blend is perfect.
Like it always was meant to be.
I’m breathless with adrenaline as the final chords ring out.
After we finish “Ghosts,” we stop for some audience interaction. Riker and Jane vamp on a random chord progression that Jane’s calling into the monitor, and Keeley plays along on the kick drum. Eventually, they’ll transition us into “Summer Sunset,” but they don’t even hint that it’s where we’re going yet.
We planned a pause here, so I grab my mic.
“Well! That was a fun start. You’re all such a great crowd. Thanks for showing up tonight and making memories with us, Los Angeles!” Cheers resound as I free my mic and walk to the edge of the stage, reading some of the signs in the crowd. “I guess you’re not all from LA, huh?” I squint. “Seattle—hey, that’s our hometown!” The crowd roars. “Nashville, Denver, Tallahassee, New York!” I pause, turning to two fans on the left of the pit with something like disbelief in my throat. “Wait, did you two really come here from Paris and Tokyo?”
The sign holders shriek in confirmation, and I almost tear up. It’s silly, but it means a lot that they traveled all this way to see us.
“That’s halfway across the world!”
I tilt the mic in their direction. The one with the Tokyo sign leans in. “We met in a Glitterbugs Discord and we had to come!”
The Paris sign holder grins and rattles off some rapid French. I studied just enough for my college vocal classes to understand they’re excited to be here.
I tilt the mic back. “Thank you both so much for coming!” I reach into my pocket and hand them each one of the custom purple Glitter Bats guitar picks that Wade ordered as a surprise for us tonight. The fans jump up and down.
I grin, handing out a few more as I walk past some other fans in the pit, fist-bumping and throwing peace signs and even taking a selfie with someone’s phone. “You’re all amazing. We love our Glitterbugs!”
“We really have the best fans in the world, don’t we?” Valerie asks from her mic. “They probably want to hear another one.”
I turn back to face her. “I’m sorry, I got distracted. Is it time to play the next song?”
The audience yells a few of their favorites.
Valerie places her hands on her hips in mock-annoyance, which we also rehearsed. The crowd laughs. “They didn’t just come here to hang out, Caleb Alexander Sloane.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay, Valerie Elizabeth Quinn, let’s rock.”
Riker leans into his mic. “This one’s called ‘Summer Sunset.’ Sing along if you know it.” More screaming. This song is a Riker feature since he wrote it with us, and he gets the guitar solo while Valerie plays rhythm. They’ve both already swapped out their guitars, which tells me I spent exactly the right amount of time up front.
Jane confirms it in the monitor talkback. “That was perfect, Caleb.”
Riker launches into the song, and Valerie and I join in on the chorus, just like we planned. We settle into a groove, and the time starts to fly by, our set going without a hitch. By the time we’re winding down to the last few songs, I realize, now more than ever, that I don’t want this night to end.
Maybe I don’t want to stop playing music with these people. Maybe I never did.
When it’s time for the big reveal, I force myself to focus. Valerie and I each grab a stool and an acoustic and huddle around two mics.
“You didn’t think we’d finish tonight without a surprise, did you?” Valerie asks, looking at the crowd with mock-dismay.
Their response is wonderful and overwhelming, as it has been all night.
“There’s one song Valerie and I started to write together years ago that we never finished. But I’m excited to announce that we had a chance to complete it this summer, and—”
Valerie interrupts me to tell the crowd, “This is when you get your phones out.”
The stadium lights up with the glittering sea of recording phones.
I continue, “—and we’re excited to share the world premiere of ‘Daydreams Like This.’?”
I look at Valerie, and she nods, biting her lip. She leans into her own mic one last time. “This is a love song.”
The fans absolutely lose their shit as we play the intro. While she begins to sing, I pretend it’s just me and Valerie, and we’re not in a stadium full of thousands of people. A chill rushes through me as her voice rings out, clear and true, and my skin prickles with goose bumps. She sounds perfect. This moment is perfect.
I can’t believe we’re really doing this.
I swallow thickly, trying to keep it together. When it’s my turn, I sing every word from the bottom of my bruised and battered heart, and by the way her eyes are shining, I know she understands what I’m feeling, especially as we’re singing in tight harmony on the new bridge:
never knew my heart could feel it
’til I kissed you and I fell
thought I had to keep you secret
but it’s too good not to tell
got all my hopes and dreams
now I’m finally waking up
cause making it means nothing
if I’m there without your love
The applause that roars when we’re finished shocks me back to reality. Time to thank everyone and head into the grand finale: “Midnight Road Trip.” And then when they beg us for one more song, we’ll come out with a cover of “I Want You to Want Me” that fades into “All the Lips You Kiss.”
We swap out our guitars with waiting techs and plug back in, and Valerie returns to her microphone as planned. After the applause fades, we’re supposed to shout out Wade and the crew and then launch right into “Midnight Road Trip.”
But she doesn’t launch into thank-yous like she’s supposed to.
She just pauses a minute, then squares her shoulders. “Tonight has been really special. As a band, we value our fans so much. It’s because of you that we’re allowed to keep doing this. This industry is hard, and some days it really feels like…well, we’re just incredibly lucky to be here with the best fans in the world. We want to make this a night to remember.”
My stomach flips. But the crowd erupts, and Valerie waits for the noise to subside as I try to make sense of what this is. I glance around at the rest of the band. Keeley’s face is a careful mask, but I catch the tick in her jaw. Riker’s brow furrows. Jane gapes, then covers it quickly with a smile.
They’re just as baffled as I am.
“Daydreams Like This” was our big surprise, the special reveal no one expected, and we sang it. We’ve got nothing left.
We’re not supposed to pause here.
I have no idea where she’s taking us, but I do know one thing for certain—this wasn’t in the plan.