Epilogue
The bar is loud.
I don’t know why that surprises me. I’ve been to shows here before. I’ve stood in the crowd and watched Mike’s band play hundreds of times.
I know what it sounds like from out there, but this is the first time I’m hearing it from up here.
The stage lights are warm on my face, and I can feel a low vibration through my whole body, into the guitar hanging off my neck.
My right hand is on the strings instead of my left, my left hand ready to strum. It’s all backwards from everything I used to know. It still feels sort of strange, even a year in, after practicing every single day.
But it’s all worth it.
My fingers find the chord without me having to think about it.
Three months ago, Mike sat beside me on the couch and listened to me play a whole song from start to finish without stopping, and when I finished, he was watching me with this look he gets when I play.
Probably the same one I get when he plays for me.
“You doing okay?” Mike’s voice comes from beside me. I can barely hear it even though he’s shouting.
“Ask me in twenty minutes,” I say, forcing down the nausea that’s been creeping up my throat since I stepped on the stage.
“You’re gonna be great.”
I shake my head, raising my voice so he can hear me over the crowd. “You don’t know that.”
“You know every song.” He glances at me sideways. “You’ve played them a hundred times.”
“In the living room.”
“Same thing.”
“It’s not the same thing at all.”
He shrugs, adjusting his strap. “If you mess up, I’ll mess up worse so nobody notices.”
I roll my eyes, but my lips twitch into a smile because even after a year, I still can’t believe Mike Pierce is real and I get to have him.
Behind us, Damon counts off the song on his drumsticks, and Zara plays a note. Mike strums once, and Trent—
He’s not in the band anymore.
Things between the band deteriorated rapidly after Mike punched him. He tried to stick around for another month, but they couldn’t be in the same room anymore without arguing.
After that, the band had five different temporary guitarists, but none of them were a good fit.
Until he came to me one night while I was practicing with the face of someone with a grand plan. I told him absolutely not. I wasn’t ready. I could barely play a song, let alone lead guitar.
He told me to think about it anyway and sucked my dick for encouragement.
I thought about it, and I said yes, and then I spent every day for the next two months practicing until my fingers hurt, fully aware that I was making a massive mistake.
But here I am, standing on the stage at Jeff’s bar.
About to throw up.
Mike holds my gaze for one more second, always checking in, before he turns to the crowd and steps up to the microphone. The crowd responds to him immediately, going quiet other than the occasional shout.
“Hey,” Mike says into the mic, “Good to see you all, we’re Chaos Riot!”
They start the first song, and I come in where I’m supposed to, even though all of me trying not to panic. I keep my eyes on my hands, so I don’t mess up, and I can hear the music ringing out through the amp behind me.
By the third song, I’ve stopped freaking out, and I’ve stopped watching my fingers. I’m actually having fun, the way I used to. Doing what I love without worrying about mistakes.
After the fourth song, Mike takes a long drink from his complimentary beer before he steps back to the microphone. “So I should probably address the elephant in the room,” he says, turning to look at me.
Whatever he’s about to do, I did not agree to.
“This is our new guitarist, Alex,” he says, gesturing toward me.
The crowd reacts with the appropriate applause, but louder than all of them, from somewhere in the middle of the room, I hear Iris scream. Nate too. And Liz and Calvin and Gracie and Ben, my whole family, louder than everyone else combined.
Mike turns to me with a grin. I already know what he’s going to say, and I’m starting to think I’ve never been this happy in my entire life.
“And I know, he’s hot, but don’t go getting any ideas,” Mike says, “He’s mine.”
He leaves the mic to step toward me, and I stand still while he grabs the hem of the new band shirt I bought for this moment, and kisses me right there, like nobody’s watching.