Avery #2
My nose scrunched. “That it’s weird. But also, all of this.
” My eyes bounced around the room from the couch, to the collection of water bottles, and finally to the wall of mirrors.
In some ways being in the studio felt like playing pretend singing along with my best friends.
Isolated and just for us. But this? There were people who were working to make the production happen.
Calling him Mr. Hart. “Oh my God. It’s all so real. ”
“It’s been fucking surreal and I’ve been waiting to show you all of it.” He grabs my hands, the coarse pad of his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “To experience all of it with you. Please tell me that you’re up for performing.”
“Wes, you don’t have to do that.”
“I don’t want it any other way.” Letting go of one of my hands he reached down to pick up the set list. “And it’s already official.”
There at the top was my name.
“You didn’t.”
“I knew you’d be here,” he said. “We show up for each other Ave. That’s what we do.”
“I could give you a good luck kiss if you need one, Avery,” Jared offered, wiggling his brows suggestively.
“Not happening,” Wes said, shooting him a glare. He pulled me into an embrace and whispered, “Give ’em hell.”
I couldn’t help it. I planted my lips against his jaw before darting toward the stage.
“Where’s mine?” Jared whined. “My cheek is lonely.”
“In your dreams, Petrov,” I said.
Wes shoved his friend back. “Nope. She’s not doing that.”
A stagehand passed me a spare guitar as I took the stage. I stood before the mic, the lights warm on my skin, the crowd leaning in, eager to see what I was made of. A familiar exhilaration flooded my veins—to earn my place, to capture attention and refuse to let go.
I didn’t see the guys after I finished since they’d been directed to a different part of the stage, and I wanted to watch from the crowd, to be caught up in the love of their music.
During the lull as their instruments were wheeled on, I went to grab a drink at the bar.
A few minutes later, a woman came up to me and leaned against the corner.
She was in a denim pleated mini skirt and a red cropped shirt with a leather jacket thrown over top, her hair in waist-length goddess braids that flowed over one bronzed shoulder and down her back.
“You were great up there,” she said, flashing her teeth in a brilliant smile. “Let me buy you a drink?”
“Sure. Gin and tonic. Avery, but I guess you know that.” I held out my hand, and she shook it with a firm grip.
“Yeah, but I like it when musicians don’t assume they’re better than everyone else. I’m Lydia. Are you going back up to watch the show from the wings?”
“I’ve heard the best way to enjoy Fool’s Gambit is in the crowd.”
“If you need a friend, I know how to have a good time.”
“Count me in.”
She ordered, and the bartender made our drinks.
“Here.” She passed me a clear cup with limes on the rim, then her eyes went to the stage. “We better make it up there or we’ll be stuck in no man’s land.”
Taking the lead, she guided us toward the middle of the crowd.
People around us emphatically discussed the set list and their favorite songs until the lights went out, and the room seemed to hold its breath.
Shadowy forms took the stage and were met with a roar of eardrum shattering excitement.
The feeling infected me, seeping into my blood.
I was screaming too, not just because those were my guys on stage, but because the moment was too much to process in silence.
As soon as the lights came up, the guys immediately launched into a song, throwing themselves into the performance.
Lydia and I sang and bumped our hips into each other as we swayed to the beat. Even though the venue was small, I knew I was witnessing something transformational. A night that would live in the hearts and heads of all those around me.
Wes and I locked eyes. I caught his smile and threw one back. I felt it then, that spell he cast on people. How his eyes would find someone in the crowd, and for a moment, they’d feel chosen.
They weren’t just making music. They were making memories, inviting listeners to desire. Feel with us. It’s okay to want to be loved and have fun and be heard, they seemed to say with every song.
Halfway through, Lydia and I went back to get a second round of drinks.
My ears rang, and my face was sore from smiling.
As we melted back into the crowd, strong arms came up behind me, snaking around my waist. I stepped forward, pushing them off, but they came again.
My elbow drove back but it didn’t seem to do anything.
Not even a grunt. I wanted to scream but I knew it would get lost in the crowd.
“Fuck off,” Lydia shouted.
I stumbled, finally free. Behind me, I found Lydia launching a full drink in the guy’s face. She whistled and waved to security, pointing to the man giving me unwanted attention, and he was hauled away.
We stepped back out of the crowd so I could get my footing.
“Holy shit, that was incredible,” I told her. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” she said, fishing in her tiny leather purse. “Actually, let me get you my number.” I was expecting her to grab a pen or to give me her phone. Instead, she had a business card pinched between her fingers. The edges were slightly bent, but the black text was clear.
Lydia Sullivan – Talent Management
“Oh shit,” I said.
“I meant what I said. I think you’re something special, and if you’re interested, I think we can do some great things together.”
“You’re serious,” I stated, rather than asked. She’d already helped me, and we had a good vibe. I was starting to get excited in a way that I never had with any previous offer. She saw me, not a way to use me or change me.
“I’m not going to make you any other promises than this. I work hard for things I believe in, and I believe in you.” She winked at me. “I also know you’re seventeen. So this is the last time we’re drinking together until you’re legal.”
I laughed in disbelief, running my finger over the edge of the card. “Yes. I want to do this. I just need to tell someone. I’ll be right back.”
“Go. I’ll save you a spot.” She nodded, heading back into the throng.
I headed for the hall that led to the bathrooms. The music bled through the heavy closed doors, but it would be quiet enough to make a call. I should have texted Dad that everything was fine earlier, but I was happy I didn’t so I could tell him all the news at once.
I was halfway down the hall when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Dad’s contact was on the screen—as if he knew. I stood there for three seconds, giving myself a moment to experience the joy. I had everything I could dream of.