Chapter 49 #2
I glance at Sterling, sitting to my right, to gauge his reaction. He’s a hard man to read. But without a doubt, his eyes are fixed on Slayer, and he’s nodding slightly.
Perhaps Sterling only now realizes the value of the vision Slayer had all along.
When Slayer and Rafe finish the first song, fans applaud wildly. The sound of their approval rocks the amphitheater like an earthquake.
Sterling turns towards Milo and me, catching our eyes and giving the smallest smile and nod.
Slayer has pulled it off.
As Slayer and Rafe move into the second song, I realize Slayer isn’t performing for the audience. He’s communing with the music itself.
But then again, he always has. That’s Slayer’s style—or maybe it’s Sam’s style. Though I’ve loved all his performances, this is the most honest I’ve ever seen him on stage.
As the concert continues, he sings several more songs from the new album. Each track is different, but they all pulse with that same driving intensity. Primitive. Gripping.
“OMG, Milo,” I whisper, “look at the way the audience is vibing to the music. It’s like they’re drawing off his energy.”
Milo nods, turning his attention back to the stage. Now that it’s twilight, purple spotlights circle.
“Now, how about some vintage Crimson?” Slayer says into the mic.
The fans go wild, cheering and clapping. It seems they crave the familiar after the journey through new territory.
He breaks the sacred trance momentarily, exchanging a knowing smile with Rafe before they slide into a Crimson favorite that launched their career.
“I loved this song when I was a kid,” I whisper to Milo, as the familiar strains of the tune flow toward my ears.
My body moves with a will of its own. The child I was could never have imagined she’d have Slayer as a boyfriend.
Even if it was a fake romance.
Can it be something real? my heart asks in the same breath.
An hour or so later, just when I think the show is winding down, Slayer steps forward, center stage. The lights dim except for a single spotlight.
“I want to thank you all,” he says, his voice rich but raw. “For your faith in me. For being here. For sharing my passion.”
The crowd whoops and stomps their approval.
“And I want to share something personal,” Slayer continues. “These last three years have been the hardest of my life, and the struggle has continued until this very moment. A woman I held most dear left this world hours ago, Rafe’s mother, Amanda.”
Slayer pauses.
“She nurtured our boyhood dreams, worked her magic on us. If it wasn’t for Amanda, neither of us would be here today. And neither would any of you,” Slayer says, with a rich, throaty laugh.
He takes Rafe’s hand, and the two men stand together.
“To Amanda!” Slayer shouts. He and Rafe punch their fists into the air in salute. The fans in the stadium echo her name.
When the roar dies down, Slayer clears his throat. “Recently, another person has come into my world. Into my life.”
To my amazement, he turns toward me.
“I’d like to sing this song for her.”
Slayer strums softly and begins singing the turtle song. With a big smile on his face, Rafe backs him up.
What was once a playful, dessert-fueled bedroom jam about a stuffed turtle has turned into something meditative, almost sacred.
They’ve deepened the lyrics, layered the melody, and now tell a tale of shelter, endurance, and homecoming. A song about patience. About moving through life inch by inch. About loving slow. Loving long. Loving forever.
“Bix,” Slayer says into the mic. “I need you to come out here and help make this song whole.”
A low murmur swirls through the crowd as heads turn and whisper.
Some have read the tabloids and gossip columns. Some have likely seen us together this weekend. But who knows what they believe.
“I’ll take you,” Milo says, pulling me to my feet. He grabs my hand and guides me to an opening in the stone where I can make my way to the stage.
A moment later, I’m standing where gladiators once slayed tigers...
And my Slayer now thrills his fans.
As I step into the light, the crowd explodes—clapping, whooping, whistling, chanting.
“Show respect,” Slayer says into the mic, eyes narrowing playfully.
He turns to me, drawing me close.
I lean into him. “What do you want me to do?”
“Accompany us in your own inimitable style. You’ll know what to do.”
I nod. And somehow I do.
The stagehand hands me a microphone. I raise it slowly as Rafe and Slayer continue their song.
Finding the beat, the right entrance point, I use my voice to echo the emotions of the song. It rises naturally, as it always does, a small tributary flowing into the big river of sound.
As Slayer sings, I imagine Oscar’s smooth, leathery head, those soft, blinking turtle eyes. Going slow. Going slow. Eventually the song drifts into silence, and the audience cheers.
After the applause winds down, Slayer raised the mic again. “You all think Bix is my girlfriend,” he says.
Some in the crowd cheer, others laugh knowingly.
“But she’s really a fake, hired to sanitize my bad-boy image,” he confesses.
My mouth drops open as he turns to look at me, taking my hand.
“But something happened,” he continues, voice softer. “I fell in love with her.”
I glance out at the people sitting on their stone seats. Everyone’s looking right at me.
“And tonight,” he says, “I want your support. I need to persuade her to become my femme.”
He looks at me a long moment. Then, in a very slow, ceremonial fashion he takes the silver pendant from his neck and puts it around mine.
“Bix,” he says, again taking my hand. “Will you be my femme?”
At first, there’s complete silence. Then, from every direction I hear voices calling, “Oui! Oui! Oui!”
Before I can answer, Slayer rises, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me. His lips are gentle against mine. Solid. Certain.
The crowd roars their approval.
As if sensing we need some alone time together on this stage, Rafe launches into his famous crowd-pleasing guitar solo.
“So,” Slayer says, as the crowd urges Rafe on. “Will you be my femme?”
I look up at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’ll be my woman. By my side. On tours. And in New York.”
I bite my lip. “And what about the Valentinas of the world?”
He shakes his head. “There’s no one else. Only you.”
I bite my lip. “And what if I want more?
“More?”
“More than just that.”
He nods as he realizes what I’m asking. “I want that too,” he says, looking into my eyes. “But let’s take it day by day. Our future has just begun.”
Rafe concludes his solo with a resounding chord and turns to look our way.
“We need to close this out,” Slayer says, turning from me to join Rafe. The two men play the finale for their fans, while technicians cloak the stage in purple mist.
It’s then that I see her.
Hilary.
Her body is ethereal, glowing even brighter than my memory could hold. She flashes me an encouraging thumbs-up. You’ve got this. And with a graceful sweep of her arm, she offers me glimpses of what must be the life ahead.
There’s a rush of images, sensations, light, color, and sound.
I see Slayer smiling.
Feel him slip a gold ring on my finger.
I inhale the scent of flowers.
Hear music and laughter.
For a moment I’m engulfed in a swirling kaleidoscope of the delicious pleasures life has to offer. Then the finale—pride and satisfaction swell within me as I see people all over the world enjoying my music.
I sense my sound vibrating through their bodies, uplifting their hearts toward fulfillment. Joy. Exhilaration. Everything Hilary and Lola and I wanted to achieve, it’s all there waiting for me.
Us.
Then, just like that...it’s over. Hilary’s gone.
“Bix?” Slayer’s voice grounds me.
When I turn toward him, his eyes are already searching mine.
“You saw her, didn’t you? Your twin.”
I nod.
“Did she speak this time?”
“She didn’t need to,” I whisper, trying to hold back my tears. “Hilary showed me...” My voice trails off. What she showed me was too powerful to explain in words.
So I collect my emotions and look into Slayer’s eyes. “Now I can see the way to all my dreams, even a few I was too afraid to speak out loud.”
He pulls me into his arms and spins me into the purple mist, his warm eyes smiling down at me. “Yes,” I tell him. “I want to be with you. To be your femme.”
The words linger on my lips. To be Slayer’s woman. For him to be my man. For us to be together.
Forever and ever.
I stand taller and kiss him. His lips are soft and inviting.
In this moment, I realize I’m not chasing my dream anymore.