Chapter 32 #2
When I’m finished, Brady blows out a breath. “Shit. You mean it.”
“That’s cool,” Tai says, reserve still embedded in his voice. “But is your ex playing ball? She sounds a little whack.”
“We spoke twice today and cleared the air.” I feel Gia stiffen beside me and huddle closer to her.
It took a little more convincing for her to be comfortable with Amber and me doing a joint interview.
But I promised we wouldn’t be in the same room together.
“And,” I add, “I told her security will escort her out if she makes an appearance at any future show.”
Tai nods again, but not in the way of someone agreeing with you. Maybe he thinks I don’t have the balls to handle this. Truth be told, without Gia’s support, I might not have.
“No violent tendencies?” Brady asks.
“I’m pretty sure we’re good.”
Amber wasn’t violent. She was kindhearted and sweet until life threw her a bitter curveball. She loved animals and children and, in spirit, was one herself. There is a reason why I fell in love.
Tai shifts his gaze from me to Gia. Cautious, as is his nature. “What about at the meet-and-greets? The fans will hurl questions.”
“Get used to throwing out no comment,” I say. “The less oxygen this gets, the better. It’s my mess to tidy up.”
Brady scratches his epic bedhead. Seems oddly deflated that we’re not throwing down headlocks or outrageous terms. “Fair. Gotta be honest though, I was low-key hoping you might stick around.”
“He’ll be sticking around me,” Gia declares. “Play your cards right, and I might share.”
She looks at me with that crooked-tooth smile, and my mind flashes to her on her knees, tonguing me from root to tip before slipping me into her mouth.
She blew my mind empty.
Bless her enthusiasm and white-hot innocence. Less expert and all the sweeter because of it.
I pull myself back to the here and now. “And in the spirit of sharing, I’ve got some ideas for ending this tour on a cracker note.”
I know before Brady claps his hands and asks, “Is it too early for shooters?” and before Tai smiles for real—yeah, that landed.
They just needed to know I wasn’t leaving them in a pile of shit. That I’ve got their backs. That nothing will blow their band up.
Reading the room.
Dad would be proud.
It’s funny how a month can feel like forever, until suddenly you’re scrambling, wondering where all the time went. We’re backstage in Barcelona, dripping in sweat, laughing, smiling, and gearing up for the mother of all encores.
The final show of our tour feels night and day to the uncertain energy we faced in Rome. We were all a little on edge, unsure how the crowd would react. It’s not every day a band blows up on stage.
But we muscled past the hecklers, and once we cleared that first hurdle, every gig got easier. Bigger and wilder. Even crazier after Music & The Muse dropped the interview with me and Amber.
I didn’t expect the tide to turn the way it did.
It’s a crap shoot when you lay yourself bare, warts and all.
A few trolls tried to take me down, but fewer surfaced than I’d feared.
And Amber owned her part, bravely stating she had to live with the decisions she made.
I respected her for that. I wished her well and made the boundary clear—we were done.
Our lives might’ve been different with different choices, but like Gia says, you can’t edit the past.
The only way is forward.
And here we are, moving toward another milestone.
I peel off my sweat-soaked t-shirt and swap it for its identical twin. Brady’s hovering again for the skin show, but at least he tries to frame his obsessive staring as observational.
“Bro, how many black and white T-shirts do you own?”
“I’m in my Steve Jobs era. Streamlined. Less shit to manage. You should try it.”
He grins, scraping back his blond bangs. “Nah. I’m still in my glitter and spandex era.” After a pause, he comes in for a slightly awkward bro-hug. “Just wanted to say, it’s been dope having you around. You’re the real fucking deal. Respect.”
“Thanks. Appreciate that. And you guys will take the world by storm, one step at a time. Keep chasing the dream.”
Tai saunters over, his shirt and tie somehow still impeccable after two hours of craziness. “Speaking of chasing—dibs on the blonde hottie with dreads, front row.”
“Pace yourself, brother,” Brady warns him. “Tonight’s party is wall-to-wall models and actresses.” Addressing me, he says, “Thank your man Rhys for the tix.”
My brother's connections from his influencer past keep the invites flowing. Tonight’s after-party he scored us tickets to is some celebrity-studded affair the boys are panting over.
Me? I’m hot and bothered for one person only.
My head is on a swivel for our North Star, but Gia must still be primping in the bathroom. “How do you guys feel about the encore?”
Tai answers with a devious smile, “Those mofos won’t know what hit them.”
I’ll leave all the pomp to the journalists after the fact, but incendiary is the goal. They left it to me to choose tonight's songs, and we’re sending these kids home floating.
If I come down from cloud nine.
Gia slinks in, wowing us all in a tight black catsuit, tousled hair, and…
“Heels?” Brady does a double-take.
Gia spins. “Too much?”
I loop an arm around her waist. She’s transformed again, and every iteration she comes up with melts my heart. “You’re the right amount of over-the-top.”
Shae barges in, sees Gia, and smacks a hand against her chest. “Sweet baby Jesus, girl! You are serious as a heart attack. Is this your work, Trenton?”
I shake my head. As if. My basic wardrobe doesn’t hold a candle to Gia’s she-jaguar era. Thank god we have hotel rooms tonight. No bunk could contain either of us.
“Well, it’s time.” Shae holds the door open. “Last call.” She’s acting like our tough general, but her chin wobbles slightly beneath the smile. She notices me noticing, and swipes a finger under both eyes. “I hate this part,” she admits. “I always cry.”
“Awww.” Gia slides in to hug her. “You killed it. Thank you so much for everything.”
I follow Gia and the boys out, confirming with a sniffling Shae, “Two mics up front?”
She smacks my ass, not going down as the softie with me around. “What do you think this is, Trenton, amateur hour? Go kick some butt before I kick yours.”
Mounting the stage stairs, I can feel the air as thick as the anticipation.
The chanting crowd senses it—something special’s coming.
My mic lined up next to Gia’s is a dead giveaway.
And then she appears in her first and only costume change of the tour, waving like the queen she is, thousands of voices merging into one throat-shredding scream of approval.
Phones light up like a galaxy of stars. I can feel my heartbeat in my fingertips.
We are on.
Behind his kit, Brady cracks the opening beat. I slide in with the guitar. Before I even hit the mic, a shockwave ripples backwards through the audience—the opening chords of “Need You Tonight” are unmistakable.
They erupt, jumping and grabbing their friends, screaming the lyrics with me.
I lean into the sexy vocals, channeling Hutchence (everyone says my voice sounds like his) while Gia struts across the stage, making me and everyone else sweat with her raw moves.
She was already a hot stage actress, but I’ll take credit for coaxing out the full vixen.
London Gia wasn't shaking her booty during choruses. Wasn’t grinding behind me like an after-hours showgirl.
Damn.
Never sang a song this turned-on in my life.
We don’t stretch the ending. The real kicker’s coming.
And what happens next is one for the history books—mine, anyway.
I breathe the final line into the mic, my voice oozing desire because Gia is one of my kind.
Without giving the audience time to catch their breath, the house lights blare on. At the same time, mesh netting in the rafters unfurls, and a blizzard of silver confetti rains down.
Brady hammers that first drumbeat.
I howl the iconic, “Hey, Hey, Hey, Hey—"
And the crowd loses its mind. Until the day I die, I will never again experience the screaming wall of sound that explodes in my face.
Because no one on earth doesn’t love “Don’t You (Forget About Me).”
It’s chaos. Strangers making out at the front of the stage. Others crying. We are responsible for the conception of at least five babies tonight.
So much love. So much energy.
Tai slays the synth track as if he were born in the '80s, and Brady's big drum riffs tumble through my bones. Gia and I ham it up, bringing one of the greatest love songs ever to rom-com life. She marches past, me pining, begging her to look my way.
And the finale! A sea of arms waving like metronomes during the world’s biggest sing-along.
There are no words.
When we finish, the fans refuse to let us leave, showering us with endless applause, begging for more. I fling guitar picks while Tai and Brady crouch at the front, shaking every hand they can without getting yanked into the pit.
Me? It’s hard to describe the weird sense of time distortion.
Two hours have passed, but it only feels like five minutes.
I’m sweat-soaked, heart pounding against my ribs, the roar of the crowd washing over me in waves.
Feeling invincible yet vulnerable at the same time, because I can’t capture the magic, this moment in time, and it’s already slipping away.
But I feel a profound sense of gratitude—for the crowd, my bandmates. For my beautiful Gia, clinging to me and bawling tears of joy.
We both know this kind of magic happens once in a lifetime.
And even though this is her moment, I just want to stay in this noise, this light, this love.
Savor every second before the curtain comes down on the finale of JC Trenton.