Chapter 9 Aurora
AURORA
I’m floating on a cloud of shared euphoria.
A high induced by the drug that is The Hometown Heartless.
When I was sixteen, I walked out of their concert in Phoenix changed in ways I couldn’t put into words.
I swore I could feel the vibrations of their energy in the air for weeks after that concert, and the world seemed brighter, more vibrant, somehow.
I felt more alive than I ever had. I’d lost that feeling for a while, and I didn’t even realize it until tonight.
“Thanks so much for having us, Melbourne. You’ve been absolutely beautiful.”
Everyone around me cheers as Sav’s voice carries throughout the stadium. I pull my eyes away from Mabel and fix them on Sav. She’s grinning at the audience as her skin glistens with sweat. She looks like she’s glowing. Like she’s living, breathing neon.
“This was just what we needed to kick things off for the Riot She Wrote Tour, and you definitely set the bar high.”
A drumbeat sounds—Mabel expressing her agreement with Sav’s statement—and my eyes dart back to her.
Back to where they’ve been for most of the show.
There’s no questioning that Sav Loveless is the one who draws the crowds.
With a voice and attitude like hers, how can she not be?
But I’d be lying if I said she was the center of my attention tonight.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning as I look at Mabel. I can’t even see her that well because of the drums, but I can hear her. I’ve heard her over everything else. She’s integral. Sav Loveless may be the frontwoman of this world-famous rock band, but Mabel Rossi is the heartbeat.
I’ll see you after the show, she’d said.
I replay her voice in my head and count the backflips that take place in my stomach. It takes Sav’s husky voice to bring me back to the present. When I look at the lead singer, I find her grinning conspiratorially as if she’s in on a secret with the audience. When she speaks, it all makes sense.
“Melbourne, even though we’re saying good night...”
Her voice cuts off as the crowd responds immediately, “It’s not goodbye!”
“But just in case, so you don’t forget us, back there is Mabel on drums, we’ve got Jonah here on guitar, this is Torren on bass, my name is Sav Loveless, and we’re The Hometown Heartless. Thank you so fucking much, Melbourne! We love you. Have a great night.”
The stage lights dim, and shadowy figures of the band leave one by one, but no one in the audience moves. In fact, the moment the darkened stage is empty, the chanting begins.
Encore, encore, encore.
I can feel the words echoing in my chest. The stadium floor vibrates under my feet from the force of the crowd’s stomping, too. I read that Heartless concerts regularly cause earthquake-like activity. I bet it’s happening right now.
My face hurts from the size of my smile. I’m so engrossed in the excitement that I barely notice the security guard approaching.
“Mrs. Sinclair, did you want to stay for the encore, or do you want to come backstage now and miss the crowd?”
I focus on the man in front of me. I recognize him. He’s been standing off to the side of the VIP tent the whole show, but I don’t know his name.
“I’d like to stay, if that’s all right,” I say, my voice raised so he can hear me over the chanting.
He nods. “Mr. Hammond requests that you not leave this area without an escort, so wait here after the encore, and I’ll come get you.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He nods, then moves back to his earlier position, and I turn my attention back to the stage. Someone brushes past me with an excuse me as she leaves the VIP tent. She smells faintly of orange blossom, but I don’t look away from the stage.
“It’s okay,” I say absently, but she’s already walking away.
Then the lights come back up and the audience screams so loudly that I have to cover my ears. The band comes back on stage, and Sav picks up her guitar and leans into the mic.
“You want a few more, then?” The response is deafening cheers, and she laughs again. “Okay, Melbourne. We hear you.”
The Hometown Heartless plays three more songs, and I dance and sing along with ninety thousand other fans. By the time the stadium lights turn on for good, I’m sweaty and exhausted, but I’m still buzzing with energy.
They say a Heartless concert is a religious experience, but it’s more than that. It’s not religion. It’s a revival. I felt it when I was sixteen. I feel it now. It’s no wonder their fandom stretches the globe.
My smile stays wide, my cheeks almost aching as I watch fans filter out of the stadium. I stay put just as my uncle requested, and to his credit, the security guard arrives promptly.
“Are you ready, Mrs. Sinclair?”
I flinch. He called me Mrs. Sinclair earlier, but now, with the house lights up and the noise level down, the title feels almost like a sharp pinch to the side.
“You can call me Aurora.”
“Aurora. Are you ready? I can take you backstage now.”
“I’m ready.”
I follow the man from the VIP tent to an exit door. When I ask his name, he tells me it’s Jones, but other than that, the walk is silent. He’s not much for small talk, and the closer we get to the backstage area, the happier I am about it.
I’m so nervous that I feel a bit lightheaded.
I’ll see you after the show.
It’s after the show. I’m going to be going out with Mabel tonight. Just a matter of hours, probably. We’ll be at a restaurant with a rooftop bar and chill music. Somewhere trendy. Somewhere cool.
I tug on the top of my flowy black dress, adjusting the strapless bra underneath.
This is the sexiest thing I brought with me, and it’s better suited for a day at the beach than a night out.
It beats everything else I had in my suitcase, though.
Cotton sundresses, mostly. Of all the things I packed, this is the most rock and roll I could come up with.
Chin up. Shoulders back.
I picture myself across from a pub table with Mabel, or perhaps seated beside her at a bar top.
The promise of proximity makes my skin buzz in anticipation.
The most delicious kind of excitement. I want to sprint to the dressing room, but I don’t.
I probably couldn’t find it on my own even if I tried.
This place is an absolute maze. I keep up with Jones, two of my strides to his one, and I chew on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too big.
It's just a night out with a new friend.
Just a few drinks and some chill music at a trendy rooftop bar with Mabel Rossi, drummer for The Hometown Heartless. I haven’t had a friend in so long. That’s why I’m excited.
I bite my lower lip and fist my hands in front of me.
Just be cool, I tell myself. Act like this is no big deal.
She’s just a famous, gorgeous, flirtatious rock star.
A rock star with a girlfriend.
I straighten my shoulders and work to tame my smile.
Just a night out with a friend.
As we approach the hallway with the dressing rooms, Jones lifts a walkie-talkie and announces my arrival. A voice I recognize as my uncle’s tells him to leave me with the girls, which I take to mean Mabel and Sav. Jones drops the walkie to his side and nods to the hall.
“Their suite’s on the right. Just head in.”
“Thanks.”
He leaves, and I stare down the hallway. I didn’t pay attention when I was here this afternoon. It took me four tries to find the room where I was supposed to meet Uncle Wade, and as I walk slowly toward the dressing room doors, my stomach starts to turn somersaults.
“Suite on the right,” I whisper as I step in front of the first door and turn to face it. “Shoulders back. Chin up.”
I turn the knob and open the door.
And then all oxygen is sucked from my lungs.
Run, my body screams. Get out of here.
But I can’t. I can’t move. I can’t even blink. I just stand there, cemented to the spot with my hand superglued to the door handle, and watch as the scene before me becomes achingly clear and technicolor.
Mabel’s with someone.
Someone tall, and glossy, and gorgeous. Long dark hair.
Golden skin. They’re wrapped together, lips locked, hands everywhere.
I catch a glimpse of the woman’s long, red-painted nails as they glide up Mabel’s side.
Mabel laughs, and it feels like a knife, sexy and serrated, right into my chest. The woman gasps, the sound strangled and thick with arousal. My nipples peak, and my stomach roils.
Then, just as I am finally able to rip my feet from the floor, the woman’s eyes open and land right on me.
“Get out! Get the fuck out!”
Her screams jolt me from my daze, and I back away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry—”
“Get the fuck out of here!”
I turn and bolt. The door shuts behind me, and I’m halfway down the hall, running to I have no idea where, when it opens again.
“Aurora, wait! Hold on.”
I freeze, but I don’t turn around. I listen to Mabel’s footsteps as she gets closer, the sound surprisingly light considering the thick platforms. When her hand wraps around my bicep, I bring mine to my face.
“I’m sorry. Jones told me to go in. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I should have knocked. I didn’t—”
“Breathe.” Mabel squeezes my arm. “Breathe. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“But she—she sounded so...”
Pissed.
“It was my fault. I should have locked the door. Honestly. It’s not your fault. Are you okay?”
I drop my arms to my sides, tipping my head up toward the ceiling. I can’t look at her yet. My face burns with embarrassment. Visions of Mabel and that woman flash behind my eyelids. My heart stays racing. My nipples stay peaked. My nausea increases.
“I’m fine. I just...God. I’m just really sorry. I really did not want to see that.”