chapter 35
Remi
THE SUN IS SINKING TOWARD the horizon, casting long shadows across Palisades Park as we work to wind down the charity event before the concert begins.
A few volunteers are gathering the dogs and loading them into Wag vans, which have cold AC blowing to keep the pups cool.
Other volunteers are working to take down folding tables and store them in the small utility trailer parked nearby.
Jordan, meanwhile, is organizing and putting away the last of the paperwork.
Nora and I are helping to load up the signs and dog toys and everything else scattered around the tent, but we both look up when Jordan says, “I can’t believe it. ”
“What is it?” Nora asks.
Jordan grins. “We raised enough money today to cover expenses until winter. And we got a ton of adoption applications.”
My mouth turns up in a smile. “That’s awesome.”
Nora adds, “Which dogs are the applications for?”
Jordan double-checks her paperwork. “Isis, Yuki, Poppy, and Juniper. And all the puppies.”
“I’m so happy for them. I hope it works out.” Nora is clutching one hand to her chest, and she looks kind of like a little kid trying to wish on a star.
“We’ll have to do interviews and home visits, but I’ve got a good feeling about it.” Jordan puts the last of the paperwork away. When she’s done, she holds up her hand to check her watch and says, “Show starts in fifteen. We’d better get over there.”
The three of us leave the Wag tent, and as Jordan gives a few last instructions to her volunteers, I cast my gaze out over Santa Monica Beach and across the glittering ocean. It stretches for as far as my eyes can see, shimmering in the setting sun.
Like a mirage, I think briefly. Almost like I brought the desert here with me. It makes me smile to myself.
We follow the flow of people toward the big stage, and on the way, I spot a beer truck and say, “Hey, you guys want a drink? I’ll buy.”
They both nod, and I weave through the crowd and step up to the window, ordering three cold Blue Moons, then return to the women where they’re waiting for me. Nora is looking anxiously toward the stage, like she’s getting antsy that we’re not there yet.
“It’s packed,” I say, then lift the beer and take a deep drink. It was so warm in that tent, the cold beer feels amazing going down my throat.
“We’re definitely going to be stuck at the back,” Jordan says. Then she glances at Nora. “Unless you want to watch from backstage?”
But Nora shakes her head. “No. I prefer watching from the crowd.” She meets my eyes. “It’s a better experience that way.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” I say. Then I wave them after me. “Come on, I’ll try to get us close.”
The women exchange looks, like they don’t think I’ll be able to pull it off.
But I’m used to Vegas crowds and groups of drunk partiers, and I lead the way through the mass of people, squeezing us through gaps in groups and getting us as close to the stage as I can.
When the crowd refuses to budge, I look back and say, “Guess this is it.”
“Wow,” Jordan says, arching a sandy-blond brow at me. “I’m impressed. Nora and I would’ve been stuck at the very back.”
“Vegas girl,” I say, lifting my beer. “Crowds are a way of life there.”
Nora trembles like a shudder just went down her spine. “I don’t think I’d like that very much.”
The stricken expression on her face makes me laugh. “It’s an acquired taste.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, the stage lights start to pulse, catching my attention and drawing it back to the stage. The MC steps onto the stage with a mic, and immediately, the crowd roars.
My eyes widen. There are a ton of people here; I realize now how massive the crowd is and how far their cheers must carry. The entirety of LA probably heard those screams.
“Welcome!” the MC says. “Thank you so much for attending Wag’s charity event. With your contributions, Wag will be able to provide care and support for more dogs in need.”
There’s another cheer, and beside me, Jordan smiles.
“Now, I know we all love dogs, but I’m guessing you all love something else as well.”
More screaming. I look at Nora, but her gaze is fixed on the stage, brown eyes wide and focused.
“I think,” the MC continues, “that you’re here to see Loaded God Complex!”
The crowd thunders as the stage lights start to spin, sending red and white strobes flickering and dancing across the assembled crowd.
“Please allow me to introduce L! G! C!” the MC yells, and the crowd screams the letters along with him.
The lights spin in a new direction, and movement to the left of the stage catches my eye.
Amidst a roar so deafening I feel it all the way in my bones, Seb steps onto the stage, drumsticks held over his head. He’s no longer wearing his hoodie or ballcap, instead dressed in faded torn jeans and a black tank, showing off his massive chest and biceps.
“Sebastian!” some of the girls around me scream. One is holding up a sign, and when she turns it just right, I can see that it says, Seb, play me like your drums!
My lips lift in a smile, and I take another drink from my cold beer bottle.
Seb takes a seat at his drum kit, grinning at the crowd.
On one of the big screens set up alongside the stage, I can see him starting to search the crowd.
My gaze flicks back to him, and I’m certain there’s no way he’s going to be able to see me out here.
So a shock goes through me when his gaze pauses on our section of the crowd, and I see his dimples from way back here as he smiles.
I’m pretty damn sure he just spotted me. And it makes butterflies twirl through my stomach.
Still smiling, Seb hits the kick, and it makes the crowd scream louder.
Their reaction makes him laugh, and he looks so blissfully happy that I laugh too.
Then, as if invited onto the stage by Seb’s drum, the three other members of LGC drift out: Dex, wearing a backward hat and acid-washed jeans; Lucas, already with his shirt off and his jeans slung low on his hips; and Michael, with his gleaming white smile and a hand held up, waving at the crowd.
They all take their positions about the stage, and Dex grabs a mic.
“Hope you’re all ready for a show tonight,” he says, garnering an ear-splitting roar from the crowd. “And I hope you donated a fuck ton of money to our charity organization, Wag. Otherwise, get your cheap asses out of here.”
Laughter and more cheers rolls through the crowd, and I look over at Nora. She’s staring at Dex, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He’s seems so sharp against her softness; it makes me wonder what they’re like in private, how it works out between them.
“Now let’s play some fuckin’ music, Cali!”
Seb hits the kick again, and Michael joins him on the bass. But even as the music rises and Dex starts to sing, prompting the crowd to sing along, I find that my eyes are glued on Seb.
Instead of looking out at the crowd, he has his eyes closed, like he and that drum kit are the only things left in the world, like there aren’t hundreds—if not thousands—of fans screaming and crying right now, taking photos and videos on their phones, trying to push their way toward the stage, their voices rising as the song’s tempo picks up.
It’s just Seb and those drums, his head moving slightly to his rhythm, sweat already gleaming on his neck and bare arms.
Suddenly, I remember what he told me about his father that second night he came to see me at Caliber: My dad hates that I play music. All these years later, he’s still waiting for me to grow out of it. Thinks it’s just a phase.
A burning ember of anger flares to life inside me, and my fingers tighten around the cold beer in my hand.
Looking at Seb right now, with the ocean stretching out to either side of the stage, his eyes closed and his wrists rolling smoothly as he keeps beat on the drums, I can’t even begin to imagine how a father could hate that he plays music. Watching him, it’s . . .
It’s beautiful. He’s beautiful.
And without meaning to, without wanting to, I find myself starting to get misty eyed.
Quickly, I reach up and wipe the moisture away, trying to avoid smearing my mascara.
Jordan leans over, bringing her lips close to my ear, and asks, “You okay?”
I nod, giving her a smile. “Yeah. This is sweet.”
She smiles back, blue eyes catching the setting sun.
My gaze shifts to Seb, and he’s smiling to himself now, looking like there’s nowhere he’d rather be than on that stage. And I get the desire to capture this moment so I can look back at it later, when I’m alone at home in Vegas, when Seb is off performing somewhere and I can’t be with him.
So I pull my phone out of my back pocket and hold it up, taking photos of the entire stage and ocean in the distance, then zooming in on Seb and snapping a few of him. I send a couple photos to Riley, and she responds immediately.
I’m SO jealous. 1 Can’t believe you actually know them in person.
Briefly, my eyes flick across the stage to Dex, Lucas, and Michael. I don’t know them yet, not any more than anyone else in this crowd does, but I’m about to. Because after the show, we’re all going to Dex and Nora’s place for dinner.
But with these two women beside me, I already get the feeling that I’m going to be welcomed there, less like an outsider and more like . . . part of the group. Part of their family, even.
Slipping my cell back into my pocket, I take a sip of beer, and then I start to sing along, joining the hundreds of other voices rising into the evening air.