7. Río #3
After putting in my earplugs, I clap two drumsticks against each other and yell to my bandmates, “Are we ready to go ‘Upside Down’?!” Then I start in on our first number one.
Coop’s guitar follows, then 007’s bass. Tris’s keys join in and we’re rocking the stadium before Bennett struts onto the stage and bellows the first notes. The crowd yells their appreciation.
Yeah, there’s nothing like the rush of playing in front of thousands of people.
One song ends and another starts right up. Cymbals sway and I’m lost in the hard-pounding beat. Where only UC exists. Our music. And our fans.
Bennett walks over to me and I know this is going to be the call-and-repeat we discussed.
A way to wipe out the Trevi Fountain from the media.
I hop off the riser and stand next to the lead singer.
“It seems our drummer here,” he places his hand on my shoulder.
“Had some fun in Rome.” He chuckles. “We thought it might be a good idea for Río to try out his newfound skills here. What do you think?”
Yelling ensues. After removing my earplugs, I take the mic from Bennett, divide the audience into two segments, and start chanting “Untamed” and “Coaster.” By the time I’m done, I swear the stadium never will forget our name. The feeling is fucking fantastic.
Back behind my drum kit, earplugs in, I continue the beat for the rest of our songs. Sweat pours off my body as both of my feet keep time on the bass drum. When the moment arrives for my drum solo, I ham it up by tossing a stick high into the air.
It lands in my open palm.
The audience screams.
Yes!
We get to the end of our set and the lights go out. I grab a towel and run it over my sweaty body, then pick up one of the remaining bottles of water and follow Coop backstage.
“You were off the chain tonight,” 007 remarks to me. “I wondered if someone in the rafters tossed down a new drumstick, you threw it up so high.”
“I felt it. Barcelona is mighty fine!”
Behind the curtains, Nese hands out towels. I pour water over my head, letting steam waft off my body. This is the reason I hit the gym so hard. If I wasn’t in top shape, there’s no way I could keep the beat for half of our concerts.
Hayden approaches me. “You were on fire out there.”
Is she talking to me? I look around but I’m the only member of UC here. “Thanks. Didn’t know you cared.”
“Don’t let it go to your empty head.” She hands me yet another towel.
I’m too high on the performance to let her comment bother me.
Instead, I rub the new towel over my naked chest, punctuated only by the UC pendant Jenna gifted us all those years ago.
One more reason to forgo a shirt—I hate the feeling of a wet shirt.
I smirk. Unless it’s on a cute chick. My gaze bounces to my babysitter and her loose, flowery shirt.
Even hers.
Luke calls us toward him for another pep talk before our encore. I hold up my wet towel to Hayden. “Can you take this?”
Her nose wiggles, but she holds out her hand. “I guess.”
“Thanks!” I drop the terrycloth into her hand, then run to catch up with the band.
Luke says, “Loving this show, guys. Thinking Río might be doing all the call-and-repeats from now on.” To the sound of my bandmates cheering, I take a bow. “But for now, go out there and make them remember the last three songs!”
We follow Luke’s advice and by the end, the stadium is almost physically rocking. I toss my drumsticks into the crowd and down another bottle of water before swiping some of the sweat off my body and joining my bandmates up at the front. We wave and take a couple of bows.
Backstage, we high-five each other. “Except for what you did with my chorizo, tonight’s gig was off-the-charts.” Coop’s signature sunglasses return to the bridge of his nose.
I have to agree with my best friend. “Something was in the air tonight.”
We barrel into The Closet, as Nese dubbed the backrooms where she keeps all the clothes and shit.
The guys and I immediately start stripping out of our wet clothes—for me, my pants.
Jenna shrieks as Bennett picks her up, trying to get away from her smelly husband.
I know from personal experience, he is smelly. Whatever. He’s her problem now.
Hayden approaches and I zip up. “Are you going out with the band to celebrate?”
I want to toast to my success with the call-and-repeat. I want to share my enthusiasm with all the fans. I want to dance in the middle of Las Ramblas.
I want to sleep.
What? I query my body and realize I’m bone tired. The rampaging endorphins seem to have left when I changed my pants, and all of a sudden, all I can think about is my bed.
I rub my left pec. This isn’t normal.
Before I can respond, Coop and 007 stroll over to us. The bassist asks, “Coming out with us?”
Coop adds, “First round of drinks on me.”
“Asshole. You know I’m not allowed to touch the stuff. Luke will have my nuts.” Not to mention Hayden would probably have a cow. Why don’t I want a drink?
“I could slip you a Gold Rush,” our annoying guitarist says, wiggling his sunglasses at me.
“As enticing as that sounds, I’m crashing. There’s always tomorrow night.”
I glance at Hayden, whose mouth has fallen open. Good. Need to keep everyone on their toes. No one can accuse me of being predictable.