Chapter 28 Ren
REN
Iwant to remember this night forever. How she looks up at me with shining eyes turned obsidian in the dark. The first taste of her lips. The smell of her hair. Her trust, letting us drag her around on the ice when she can’t even skate.
Of course for me that means I want to write a song. Now. Before the rush of emotion fades.
It’s crazy indeed, how one unassuming woman can turn my whole existence on its head and make everything new and exciting again.
She’s shivering despite being wrapped up between us. Kneeling on the ice certainly doesn’t help. Skadi worms in between us, a wriggling fur ball eagerly licking everyone’s face since we’re not usually such easy targets.
Laughing, I hop up to my feet and offer a hand to help Darby up too. Henrik keeps an arm around her as we move toward the stage, but he doesn’t snap or bark at me when I do the same.
An all new world of impossibilities. I can’t feel the ice beneath my skates. I’m floating on air.
Though Doyle does his best to bring my feet back down to earth. “That was fucking stupid.”
“Which part?” I ask cheerfully, determined not to let him bring me down. I figured he’d be pissed about me flipping over the fire. I wasn’t even sure I could do it—the flames hadn’t died down as much as I hoped.
“Taking her out onto the ice on a live feed with no mask.”
I cast an uneasy glance over her head at Henrik. I hadn’t really thought about keeping her anonymity. The hockey masks go with the theme, yeah, and also add to the atmosphere we’re going for.
But we also don’t want people to immediately place us as the Mighty Zon and the Gustafson Hotshot. Not because we want to hide who we are, not exactly. But in the beginning, at least, I wanted to make sure the band was judged by nothing more than the music and the act.
The last thing we need are a bunch of hockey groupies figuring out our secret identities.
Doyle especially had been reluctant to join us at first. He’s the kind of guy who only does things he’s going to succeed at. That’s why he quit playing hockey when we got serious in high school. He was decent—but not great. He was better at academics and made a phenomenal surgeon.
Which was why I knew he’d be great on the drums. It’s all in his hands. The delicate touch and perfect rhythm.
“Do you care about a little Internet fame, babe?” Henrik asks.
Her eyebrows arch. “How much fame are we talking?”
“We hit a million subscribers this year.”
True, but it’s also a little more complicated than that with the paid subscriptions we offer. Plus the merch line…
Her mouth sags open, and it’s all I can do not to bend down and kiss her again. I would—but Henrik beat me to the punch.
When he lets her come back up for air, she sways a little. “A… a million?”
“We never hit that many on a live feed, though,” I say. “If you’re concerned about keeping your identity a secret, we’ll just remove the video from the channel. If you’re curious, I’ll have Leland check to see how many viewers we had tonight.”
“Wow. I had no idea your band was such a big draw. That’s amazing, and terrifying all at once. Will it hurt you if someone recognizes me?”
Not now—but in the future? Maybe. Especially if she’s Henrik’s wife. Eventually people will put two and two together. That doesn’t bother me in the slightest, but I’m fucked up that way. Fame and attention only make me smile wider, skate harder, and swing that stick—dick?—faster than ever.
Doyle, though? Not so much. Henrik? I’m not sure.
The big guy likes his privacy. That’s why he moved out here in the first place.
I don’t think Leland will care. He’s got his own fame building right now, and he used his real name on his books.
If he cared about secret identities, he would’ve chosen a pen name.
“I want everyone on this planet to know you’re mine,” Henrik says in a deep, rumbling growl that damned near makes her come from the way her eyes dilate as she looks up at him.
“Well, D the drummer definitely doesn’t want people to know his real name.” Doyle narrows a hard look at me. “Tell Leland to send me the video ASAP. I’ll take a look and see how much damage control you need to do. Maybe we got lucky and her face isn’t even in the shot.”
“Sure,” I say with a shrug. Though I know damned well the shots were good because I made sure of it myself earlier today. Though our lighting is set up to keep the set moody and mysterious. A few indirect shots of her face might be fine. “I’ll see to it. Are you coming over?”
“Not tonight.” Doyle gives her some serious side eye, making his reason obvious. “I may need to go down to Colorado Springs to pick up my kid tomorrow.”
“Is everything okay?” Henrik asks.
“She’s fine, I think, but she sounded stressed out. I told her a break before finals might help but I’m not sure she’ll take me up on my invitation. If she agrees, I’ll pick her up first thing in the morning.”
I try not to let my disappointment show but I suck at schooling my face. It’s tradition for us to gather at my house after a show and celebrate. We’re all usually pretty high on adrenaline and even Doyle can let down his hair—metaphorically of course—and not be such a dick. “Sure, that’s fine.”
“Good night.” Doyle hesitates a moment, as if he knows he should say something nice to Darby, even just a casual, “Nice to meet you,” but he can’t quite make himself do it. So he turns on his heel and walks off instead.
Henrik lets out a low grunt of disgust. “I’ve never wanted to bust his head open with my stick more. Sorry, babe. He’s usually not such a jerk.”
“Oh yes he is,” I say, laughing. “There’s a reason the man never had any friends but us. If we both give Leland a hand, we can get the file sent over to Doyle and do a little damage control if needed. Plus I’d like to see the shots with Darby anyway. I think they’re going to be fire.”
We pause at the edge of the stage to put our guards back on. Then I lead the way around the carefully placed boulders that hide as much of our necessary equipment as possible to the control room.
Leland looks up as I open the door. “Still processing, but it should be ready in a few minutes. You’ve got time to change and then I bet it’ll be ready.”
“Sure. Can Darby hang with you for a few minutes? It’s a little warmer in here.”
“Of course.” He jerks his head over to the corner. “There’s an extra stool if you want to drag it over.”
Henrik’s already on the move, grabbing the stool and making sure she’s comfortable. “Be back in a few, babe.”
She stares at all the electronics with wide eyes. “Wow. Can you tell me what all of this does?”
I barely repress a smirk as I follow him back out the door and around the rear of the stage to our dressing room. Leland’s like a kid in a candy shop when it comes to all the recording equipment. “Hopefully he doesn’t put her to sleep with all the technical jargon.”
Taking a seat on the bench, Henrik snorts and starts to unlace his skates. “If I know Darby, she’ll have a million and one questions for him. No way she’ll be bored or put to sleep.”
I sit opposite him and start the transition from Ice Vessel to regular hockey player to… Ren. Just me.
The real me that only my closest friends ever know or see.
Gratitude wells up in me, a staggering avalanche that makes my vision swim and my throat ache. “Thank you.”
Two simple words. But it means so much more than a polite expression. Thank you for letting me be real with you. Letting me take off the mask and be raw. Mistakes and all.
All the past fuck ups. Always having my back. Giving me another chance when you didn’t have to pick up the phone. Let alone allowing me to move out here and stay. Giving me a place to call home.
Thank you for being my friend.
My family. The only family I claim.
Not to mention letting me have a shot with Darby. He could have flattened me for looking at her sideways. Murdered me for daring to kiss her.
Instead, he says, “I gave her an idea earlier that’s hopefully been burning in the back corner of her mind all damned day like it’s been for me. Are you up for a cross and hard around shot?”
I can’t imagine the look on my face, but it must be fucking hilarious. Henrik laughs so hard I’m guessing Doyle can hear him clear across the lake.
“That’s what I thought.” Henrik slaps me on the back. “Let’s go, Hotshot.”
DARBY
I’m starting to understand why Ren laughed when I asked about their Wi-Fi connection out here in the middle of nowhere.
Leland’s got so much tech crammed in this little room I’m pretty sure he could control satellites in outer space.
Most of it’s over my head, but it tells me a lot about their Ice show and how serious it is for them.
No one invests in this kind of equipment lightly, let alone building a stage and set on top of a personal ice-skating rink.
If it wouldn’t look rude to be on my phone while he talked, I’d be Googling the hell out of the band’s name. Didn’t Henrik say it was Ice Vessel?
“Bingo,” Leland says, his eyes lighting up with glee. “Checking the stats… Cool. We had just over a thousand people watching live.”
A thousand. Gulp. “Is that normal?”
He shrugs. “A little lower than usual, to be honest, but not bad, especially with the holidays coming up.”
The door opens, startling me, but then Henrik’s behind me, his hands on my shoulders.
Ren squeezes in between our stools. “Doyle wants the file ASAP,” he says in a mocking tone that makes Leland roll his eyes.
“Of course he does. You can tell him I dropped it to his box.”
“I’m not telling him shit.” Ren laughs, low and wicked. “If he cares so much, he can watch for his own damned file. Let’s see what we got.”
“This is from the main feed, raw and unedited,” Leland warns. “I haven’t checked the sound or the other shots yet.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ren says. “Let’s see it.”
The video starts to play, showing a wide-angle shot of the entire stage and rink.
The camera must have been behind me up in the trees, giving a perfect shot of the fire, ice, and stage.
You can tell that someone’s sitting at the fire watching with a dog but there’s nothing about me in the darkness that would identify me.
As the music starts, the shot seems to glide in closer to the stage.
“Everything’s set up on timers.” Ren points to the left and right of the screen.
“We’ve also got different cameras here and here, getting personalized shots of Henrik and Leland throughout the night.
Doyle also has a camera mounted above him, so people can watch the sticks move and feel like they’re right there with him. ”
“Later, I’ll take the feed from all the cameras and edit them into one video for release,” Leland says.
“The only feed that’s live is this main one front and center.
It’s programmed to zoom for the songs, and then when it’s time to move out to the ice, it adjusts to the wider angle.
We’ve also got cameras on either side of the ice for the skits. ”
Ren snorts with derision but points out where the other cameras are too. “They’re not skits, man. They’re live action shots.”
Leland winks at me. “Sure, sure.”
It’s surreal watching the video play again, especially once Ren steps out onto the ice.
The sound of his skates is picked up by the microphones and adds an eerie percussion to the music, just like it sounded sitting on the sidelines watching.
“How is the sound so good? I mean there’s no wind or other weird sounds getting picked up. ”
“Trial and error, honestly,” Ren replies.
“For the most part, the canyon is sheltered from the wind. We do sometimes get noise from the trees, but if it’s not too bad, Leland can control that sound and make sure it doesn’t overwhelm the music.
It’s actually pretty cool and what makes us unique because everything is outdoors and less controlled.
It adds to the atmosphere, and every time we play, the sound is a little different because of a multitude of factors that can’t be controlled. ”
“Plus the microphones are designed to pick up the ‘good’ sounds and suppress background noise,” Leland adds. “It took some fine-tuning to be sure they picked up the ice sounds we wanted but it works really well.”
I watch as Ren swoops in and snags me off the log.
My heartbeat quickens, remembering the adrenaline rushing through me.
The instant fear I’d mess up his song or fall, fading to awe as he whirled me around so effortlessly.
The camera panned the entire ice as we ice-danced around the small rink.
I recognize myself, but in the dark it’s hard to make out my features as he whirls me around.
It’s clear I’m female, startled from the wideness of my eyes, but the hat and coat disguise me in the dark.
Until Ren deposits me front and center. I’m turning, watching him circle, and you can see my face clearly. I bite my lip. “Is that a problem?”
Ren leans closer, waiting for the moment he slides across the ice and wraps his arms around my legs. The way he clings to me, arching backward, his hands reaching in supplication, gives me chills. So powerful. “I knew it’d be good but damn.”
He wraps his arm around my waist, squeezing me closer. “Not a problem as far as I’m concerned, but Doyle will probably be in a tizzy.”
“I think it’s time for stage two,” Henrik says.
I’m not sure what that means but Leland grins and Ren practically squeals with glee. He looks over at me, grinning. “We’ve talked about adding GoPros to the live-action skates so we capture what I see. One for Henrik too.”
But that would mean…
They would’ve captured me. My face. My reaction to his song.
Me kissing them both.
My mind blanks. Would I even be here the next time they do the Ice skits? A week? Two weeks?
What are you doing here, Darby?