40. The Bellwether
40
THE BELLWETHER
ARCHER
“She’s out there, all right. I don’t know why you didn’t believe me.”
Bella was cute, no doubt, but she was annoying the hell out of me this evening.
“It’s not that I didn’t believe you. I just can’t believe she’d show up.”
“Archer. Relax.” Ian was usually the voice of reason, but not tonight. I didn’t need to relax. I needed to get pumped. To jump on the balls of my feet. To be ready to belt out a song or take a swing. Whichever was necessary.
“O’Connor’s an influencer too,” Mal offered. He was draped over the sofa in a sprawl. Even the greenroom in this place was brand new and spotless. No one had spilled a beer here yet or thrown up or anything. It smelled good, which was just unnatural for a greenroom. It was supposed to smell of sweat and desperation. The whole thing made me nervous. “She’s allowed to attend a fantastic show in her own hometown. ”
The room was too small. I couldn’t prowl effectively. “She’s not allowed to attend on the eve of publishing a book of fucking lies about me!”
Not even Bella was willing to challenge me on such an obvious statement. It was just rude of O’Connor to show up.
As for announcing that she’d be doing a live podcast during our gig? Well, talk about stealing our limelight. All to promote her stupid book. She was an attention whore, and I resented being the backdrop to her big publicity play.
Phil bustled in, swirling with self-importance and actual power. Maybe I needed to buy a double-breasted suit.
“It’s looking great out there,” he said. “I talked to the stage manager. They are not going to fuck up the lighting cues tonight or I’ll have his hide nailed to my office wall. Why, hello, little honey. You’re Bella Southdown, aren’t you? Wonderful to meet you—Phillip MacGregor, New Talent Agency. Give me your contact information in case I need to alert you to any great opportunities. Not that these boys aren’t the hottest thing in LA at the moment!”
You had to admire the guy’s presence. He and Bella exchanged info, and then he turned to us.
“How’s it going? What do my boys need? Sky’s the limit tonight!”
“Get O’Connor out of here!” I was suddenly unable to control my frustration. “She’s live podcasting, for god’s sake!”
Phil blinked. “And that’s a problem . . . why?”
“Fuck, Phil! She’s about to publish a book about me!”
“I know. Isn’t it great? You guys are the luckiest bastards on the planet right now!”
I glared at him. On the love him/hate him question, I was definitely coming down on the “hate him” side.
He correctly read my fury. “Archer, I’ll tell you again. There is no such thing as bad publicity. Her book is going to sell albums for you boys. And T-shirts. And you’ll get a better cut of the gate at your gigs, which are going to just keep getting bigger. You’re already about to place out of these smaller clubs. I have a few surprises to throw at you in the weeks to come. So, calm down.”
“I cannot calm down.” I bit out the words. Spat them like poison.
“My boy,” he said, laying a hot and meaty hand on my shoulder. “I promise, you’re going to come out on top in this.”
He couldn’t make that promise. He didn’t know about Maggie Danforth and whatever other stupid shit O’Connor had dug up. I turned from him so I wouldn’t punch him.
Even Charlotte wouldn’t come to me. She sat by Ian and kept her head down.
“Anyway,” Phil said. “What are you worrying about O’Connor for when you’ve got this lovely, ripe peach right here?”
He leered at Bella, who looked like she was trying not to laugh at him. I shouldered him aside and stood in front of Bella. I was going to apologize for the creepy-uncle vibe, but then it occurred to me.
“Bella, my night is shot. But honey, you are going to have a great night.”
She sat up straighter, her eyes darting to the bathroom door. “Yeah? Really?”
I shook my head. “Not that. But wait and see. I’ve got something special planned for you tonight.”
Her fingers were already flying. She was posting to her feed, and who could blame her? That damned redhead was not the only person getting the word out tonight.
As charged up as I was, it should have surprised exactly no one that our gig was electric. We owned the crowd from the moment we took the stage. With the lights in my eyes, I couldn’t see which of the glass-fronted VIP suites held O’Connor and her live podcast, but that didn’t matter. She deserved to see what she was going to be fucking up.
We were on like fire. We couldn’t mess up. I felt it in my bones. The connection to Ian and Mal was like steel. I knew every move they made, even with my back turned. And Charlotte, already better at knowing what we wanted, was the princess. We owned the crowd.
We’d soon own the world.
And when the time came to sing our newest song, I took a moment to give a small introduction.
I raised my hand to quiet the crowd, and they followed along willingly. “I wrote a song recently called ‘Circle of My Arms’ that we’d like to play for you tonight.” They screamed their delight, and even through the harsh lights, I could see the screens of dozens of phones flash on to film our world premiere.
Hopefully, O’Connor was broadcasting it too. Why shouldn’t her greed work to our advantage? I finished my intro by looking into the darkness. “Bella, sweetheart, this song is for you.”
Murmurs and whispers raced through the crowd. Everyone knew Bella Southdown had been getting the best Aftermath scoops lately; everyone knew she’ d complimented my kisses. Now I’d written a song for her.
Take that, O’Connor.
Ian began the gorgeous slow-dance music we’d created for the song, and I sang it. All four verses.
I didn’t want to love you
That’s not who I am
How you crept in, I can’t say
But now my arms are empty when they don’t hold you
Now my smile has lost its full forc e
Now when I think of something to tell you,
You’re not here to ask
And I’m not used to this
What the hell have you done to me?
Becoming a new person at my age,
Well, that’s terrifying
I think I was happier before I knew
How good it felt to hold you
Because now you’re not here
And I want you here
Have you doomed me to living my life
With these perpetually empty arms?
I know it’s scary for you too
Evolution like this takes courage
But stick with me. We’ll figure it out
How can it be wrong when you so perfectly fit
Into the circle of my arms?
I’m ruined for anyone else
You turned me into a one-woman man
And I didn’t think that was possible
But thank god it is. So I’m asking you
To please never leave
The circle of my arms
Guys had their arms around their girls. Bodies swayed to the seductive tune. There was a collective sigh of pleasure before the applause crashed onto us. Another hit.
Of course.
We were just that good.
I waited until the applause was beginning to fade before I leaned in and whispered into the mic, “I love you, Bella. ”
Screams of pleasure erupted. Such romance. Such drama. They loved it.
So, of course, I did too.
I spared a moment to wonder what Bella thought. The sentiment would no doubt confuse her, but I’d worry about that later. Once the cameras had winked off. Once O’Connor had packed up her fucking broadcast and gone back to her snake pit.
It was hard to top that song, but we went straight into “Street Dancing,” followed by the slamming energy of “Blood Burn,” and the gig could have powered the greater Los Angeles Basin with the energy we were generating.
By the end of our second encore, triumph welled up in me, meaty and blood red and just a little bitter. Publish your book now, you bitch. No one here will remember you ten minutes after it drops.
Your move, O’Connor.