18. The Spotlight
EIGHTEEN
THE SPOTLIGHT
L ily
The bus slows to a stop, and the energy shifts. We’re in a secured lot, tucked away from the chaos of the fans waiting outside. Excitement buzzes in the air as we switch to a sleek black van that’s set to take us to the set of a popular show that primarily interviews musicians called “The Spotlight”. Electric Wounds is gearing up for another big interview, and the anticipation is electric.
As we pull up to the station, I catch sight of the crowd—a sea of fans holding signs, screaming, trying to get a glimpse of the band. My heart races, a mix of adrenaline and excitement shooting through my veins. The guys seem calm, but I know they’re storing their energy for the performance. This is their stage, as much as it would be at a concert.
Inside the station, the staff whisks the guys away for hair, makeup, and wardrobe. I hover at the back, suddenly feeling out of place in my simple blouse and jeans while they’re transformed into their rockstar selves. Thankfully, I won’t be on camera.
I look around, scoping out the guys as they are prepped. Marcus sits in front of the mirror, blond hair tousled to perfection, his tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. The makeup artist adds a touch of kohl to make his blue eyes pop even more. He catches my eye in the mirror, giving me a warm, confident smile.
Next to him, Dylan’s charm is cranked up as he tells an animated story to his stylist, a man with bright orange hair. His green eyes are sparkling with mischief. I wonder if what he’s saying is true or if he’s a prank on the guy working on creating an artfully disheveled look on his brown locks.
Jax, always the brooding one, sits silently as the artist smooths his dark hair and adds a subtle shadow to his eyes, making his mood even more intense. I don’t linger on him for too long, worried that he’ll notice me staring. Things between us are better now, but he looks moody, and I don’t want him to turn his attitude toward me.
My gaze falls to Enzo—cool as ever in a fitted black shirt, tattoos on display, his dark hair falling just right. His stylist has already finished, and he’s just sitting in his chair. I try to fade into the background, but of course, Enzo spots me. He walks over with that smirk of his, a glint of trouble in his eyes. "You good, Lily?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.
“Golden,” I reply, pulling on my fake it ‘til you make it attitude to sound more confident than I’m currently feeling.
He leans in, his breath warm against my ear as he murmurs, "You look great. Don’t let them intimidate you."
Obviously, my acting skills need work. Before I can respond, he grabs my hand, tugging me over to the side of the dressing room draped in shadows. And then, with no warning, he presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth. It’s soft, lingering just long enough to send a jolt through me, his lips warm and gentle, but possessive.
"Enzo…" I breathe, my heart hammering in my chest.
He remains close, eyes locking on mine, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Just remember, you belong here, with us." Leaning in again, Enzo kisses me once more, this time his lips fully connecting with mine as he licks the seams of my lips. As soon as I part them, he backs away, smirking again.
His words stick with me as we head toward the interview set, leaving me feeling more confident, like I can actually handle this.
The set is bright, with tall chairs lined up in front of an enormous row of windows. The fans are still outside, screaming and pressing against the glass, waiting for a glimpse of the band. There’s even a live audience inside, their excited conversations filling the air with background noise. Everyone quiets to a hush as the guys walk onto the stage.
Claire, a bubbly blonde, and Luka, her suave co-host, greet the band with wide smiles as the cameras start rolling. "Welcome to The Spotlight !" Claire’s voice is full of energy. "Today, we’re sitting down with none other than Electric Wounds!"
The crowd outside erupts into screams, audible through the glass, and the guys wave. Inside the building, the audience cheers and Dylan turns in their direction, shooting a wink, while Enzo offers them a smirk. Their charisma is cranked up to full volume.
"So, how’s it feel to be back on tour?" Luka asks, leaning forward with a smile once the guys sit down.
Marcus takes the lead, voice steady and sure. "It feels incredible. Being back on the road, playing music, connecting with the fans—there’s nothing like it."
Claire beams. "And we hear the tour’s been a huge success so far! How’s life on the road treating you guys?"
Dylan jumps in to answer first with a grin. "It’s a whirlwind, but we love it. Every show’s a rush. Keeps us alive."
Jax looks a bit distant, staring off into the crowd past the windows with a furrowed brow. But, he adds, "The energy from the fans keeps us going. It’s what fuels us." Turning to look at the camera as he speaks.
Enzo leans back, arms crossed, looking every bit of the collected jerk he is. "It’s been wild, but having each other makes it easier. We’re a family."
Claire nods, her smile softening. "It’s clear you guys are close. Now, we’ve heard there’s a recent addition to your team. Can you tell us about her?"
My heart skips a beat. I stay frozen off to the side, but Enzo smoothly rolls with the change of topic like he was expecting it. "That would be Lily," he says, flashing me a grin past the camera. "She’s our handler. Keeps us organized, keeps us sane, keeps all our shit heading in the direction it’s supposed to."
Luka raises an eyebrow, teasing. "Keeps you in line too, I bet."
Enzo chuckles, his charm dialed all the way up. "Something like that. We’d be a mess without her."
Claire giggles. "My, my. It sounds like you’re smitten. I’m sure there are fans out there heartbroken to hear you might be taken, Enzo." The crowd outside reacts with playful boos and cheers, and Enzo just shrugs, leaving everyone guessing.
The interview continues in a similar manner, light and fun for the next several questions. The band alternates with responses, working the interview like a well-oiled machine. But then Luka steers the conversation in a more serious direction, turning to Jax with a knowing look.
"Jax, we’ve got to ask—you’ve been open about going to rehab for treatment. How are you coping now, and what’s this journey been like for you?"
The atmosphere shifts. Jax’s face darkens, his shoulders tense. He takes a deep breath, eyes flicking toward the floor. "It was a dark time," he says quietly, his voice steady but heavy. "I was dealing with a lot of personal stuff, and I made some bad choices. Rehab was… hard. But it was necessary. I’m still working on it. One day at a time."
Claire nods sympathetically. "It’s brave of you to share that. How’s it affected your music and your bond with the band?"
Jax glances at the guys, his eyes filled with both gratitude and pain. "It’s brought us closer, I guess. Made us confront some things. The music—it’s more personal now. Every song feels like a piece of my recovery."
Luka leans in, his tone gentle but probing. "Does it make performing harder, knowing your fans know about your struggles?"
Jax’s jaw tightens, and I can see the storm brewing behind his eyes. "Yeah. It’s hard. Especially knowing that so many people look up to us as a band. But the fans… they’ve been incredibly supportive. That helps."
The crowd makes sympathetic noises. My hands are gripped together tightly as I watch Jax on the edge of his patience struggle to maintain his composure. Luka seems to sense it too, but instead of backing off, he digs in further. “Is there anything you would do differently if you could? Maybe starting around the first time you became involved with your drug usage?”
Jax looks at him incredulously. The band exchanges glances. I watch as Dylan’s friendly smirk falls into a frown. Marcus’ calm mask slips slightly and Enzo, well Enzo, just looks like a dick. Honestly, I’m stunned by the question, this must be something off script. There is no way the label would approve something that invasive. Right?
Without a word, Jax stands up and storms off the set, leaving the room in stunned silence. I wait a few beats, watching the band.
Marcus, always the steady one, steps in. "Jax is still working through a lot. It’s a personal journey, but we’re with him every step of the way."
Claire manages to recover from Luka’s blunder quickly, moving the interview forward. "So, Dylan, you are known for your wild antics on stage. Any memorable moments from this tour you want to share?"
It appears the band has the rest of the interview under control, so I slip away from the stage and head back into the dressing room. I find Jax pacing, his expression furious.
"I can’t believe they brought that up," he mutters, running a hand through his hair when he spots me walking in his direction.
I step closer, my voice soft. "Jax, it’s okay. You don’t owe them anything."
He looks at me, his expression raw and conflicted. "It’s not that simple, Lily."
I touch his arm gently. "I know.” I pause, thinking about the labels threat. Heck, my presence is because the label doesn’t trust Jax. I move closer, wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my head against his chest in a gentle hug. Jax is tense at first, but slowly relaxes and loosely wraps his arms around me.
We stand that way for a few long moments until we hear the audience cheering, signaling the interview has ended. I pull away, not wanting any of the crew from the show to catch us and make any type of assumption, but I stay close, waiting for the rest of the band.
They are quick to join us backstage, immediately joining Jax and I. They are silent, scanning his face, then we gather our gear that we arrived with and head back to the sleek black van.
When the door shuts, Enzo bursts out, “That was fucked.” I’m worried he’s going to yell at Jax and that I might have to step in, but he continues. “I can’t believe they would ask that. I thought the label was supposed to approve our interview questions in advance.”
“I thought so too,” I interject. “That’s what I was told when I started, but I will call Harris when we get back to the bus and check. It’s going to be okay,” I say, scanning the faces of each of the band members.
Jax exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. "Thanks, Lily."
“No problem,” I murmur, hoping we don’t have to do another interview any time soon.