Chapter 30 #2
Paris and Jaxon pop into my mind. I force them away and kiss her, showing her exactly how much she means to me.
She pulls away first and presses her palm flat against my chest, right over the place where the heaviness lives. “Kiss me like that again and there won’t be an opening night.”
“All right, vixen. No more kisses for you.” I take her hand into mine, weaving my fingers with hers. I guide us down the hallway. “What took you so long to get here?”
“Oh, I was meaning to tell you…” She peeks over at me. “I’m pretty sure the word is out.”
“What word?”
“That we’re married.” She tugs on my arm and jumps up and down as we stroll. “The media are out in full force, but I didn’t let them knock me off my game.”
“Yeah? What happened?”
“I took the limo here just like you planned. They swarmed the car as soon as it stopped.” She flashes me her wedding ring. “And I didn’t hide this.”
“Nice. That means I can use tonight as an opportunity.”
“For what kind of opportunity?”
“You’ll see.”
Mayhem opens, and we’re playing our hearts out.
I scream as I sing, “I’m in a cage with no guards to unlock my prison doors.”
I bend backward, singing from deep in my lungs. “You’re the one with the key. Now set me free.”
The house lights cut and the arena goes from a roar to a demand. I drag the mic stand to the center and let the darkness hold for three full seconds. When the next chord rips from Bren’s guitar, I open my mouth, and the crowd detonates.
“LA.” I pull back from the mic and let the echo die. “We’ve missed you.”
The front rows surge forward. I drop to the edge of the catwalk and point the mic out at them, letting them finish the hook of the opening song themselves. They do. Every word, every note, every scream exactly where it belongs, and I stand proud with a smile.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” I work back toward center stage. “You warmed up for us, or did you just get here?”
The crowd answers with a wall of noise that shakes the rigging overhead. And that’s our cue. We tear through the first three songs without stopping.
Between the third and fourth, I swing around to Bren. Sweat drips off his brow as he trashes on his guitar.
“They’re loud tonight.” I lean toward his mic so the audience can hear. “Louder than San Diego’s gonna be.”
Bren pulls his pick across the strings with a sharp riff. “Don’t jinx us.”
“LA, Guns just told me not to jinx it.” I pace the width of the stage. “So let me ask you something. You gonna make him regret that?”
The crowd pushes the roof up another three feet. We run the next two songs. The set settles into that groove where the band and the room become one thing, where I stop performing and start living inside the music.
Hawke’s locked in behind me, driving every chorus harder than the last. Cooper works the front edge of the stage on my left like he is daring somebody in the front row to reach up and touch his bass.
Between the fifth and sixth song, I march to the wings. Livianna’s exactly where I put her, swaying with those blue eyes that get me every time.
I extend my hand. “Come here.”
She shakes her head, eyes going wide. “Callum, I’m not going out there.”
“Yes, you are.” I keep my hand out and wait. “Or I can pick you up and carry you out.”
Her eyes cut to the crowd, then back to me. “There are forty thousand people out there.”
“Forty-two, actually.” I wiggle my fingers. “Come on, vixen. Don’t make me come get you.”
“But…”
“There were way more people at Coachella and you did just fine. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
She takes my hand. “I should’ve known you were going to do this.”
The second she steps into the light, the crowd reads it before I say a single word. The roar builds from the floor up, starting in the pit and climbing until it hits the upper deck and comes back down twice as loud.
I pull her to center stage, bring the mic up, and let the noise crest. I wait for it to drop just enough to be heard.
“LA, we’ve been coming to this stage for years, but tonight’s the first time I get to do this.” I turn toward Livianna. “Everybody, say hello to my wife, Livianna Mayze.”
The arena erupts. The floor vibrates under our feet. Bren, without missing a beat, fires off a riff that punches straight through the noise and the crowd screams louder for it.
Livianna tips her face up toward mine, her expression caught somewhere between joy and genuine overwhelm. “You’re impossible.”
I press my mouth close to her ear. “Did you really think I was gonna waste forty-two thousand people?”
She pulls back just far enough to narrow her eyes at me, and then the laugh wins. She drops her head against my shoulder. I wrap one arm around her and hold the mic up with the other while the crowd loses its mind around us.
I press a kiss to her hair and pull the mic back to my lips. “LA, give my wife a warm welcome and show her how we do it around here.”
The audience goes wild. We take a moment to let them into our world.
She pulls on my hand. “I’m going to go back over there. They might rush the stage if I keep you to myself.”
“They could.” I wink at the camera that’s focused on me. The big screen shows my enormous smile, and I swear I look like a dumbass teenager in love. Oh, fucking well. “Give my love one last applause, and we can get back to why you’re all here.”
They holler and cheer as I take her back to the side of the stage. Once we get there, she kisses me like she can’t get enough.
And all is right in the world…until it’s not.