3. Elijah
Chapter three
Elijah
June
T he Reckless Riders consisted of my brother Owen, who played guitar.
His best friend, Connor, with whom he started the band, played the bass guitar.
Hunter played drums, and Beck or Beckford, his real name, was on the keyboard.
Last, but certainly not least, I was on vocals, and I sometimes played guitar when the song called for more than one.
They had been my only family for the last few years.
Link and the band were the only friends I cared to keep.
My favorite moment before every performance was just the five of us huddled on stage while the crowd buzzed behind the curtain. We started each show with a silent prayer. I never knew who we were praying to, but the band had done it since before I joined, so I was accustomed to it.
The moment the curtain opened, my eyes veered to the front, where I knew Aubrey and her friends were going to be. My eyes stopped on Brielle. Those green eyes I’d been dreaming about from time to time were staring back at me.
She’s beautiful.
I couldn’t let my thoughts linger on her too long because we had a show to do. I had a feeling it was going to be my favorite show to date.
The audience collectively gasped and cheered when I called Aubrey onto the stage at the end of our show.
A moment later, Link walked out. Link, along with the band and me, pulled off the best grand gesture.
We helped Link learn how to play the song his girl, Aubrey, wrote. There wasn't a dry eye in the crowd.
After the show, Owen and Beck showed everyone around backstage. Many famous bands had played here, so signatures and such were on all the walls. It was pretty cool to see. However, my attention was entirely on watching Brielle.
Her dark hair was down, splaying over her shoulders, and she wore no makeup.
Her freckles were prominent, which I assumed was from the sun, since her skin had a tinge of red still left over.
She had on a band T-shirt, which she must have bought right before the concert.
It was a crop top, showing off her pierced midriff, paired with tight-fitted jeans, hugging her thighs.
She was petite in every way, which rarely caught my attention, but both times I’d seen her, she did.
All of us settled in the greenroom, and I sat down beside Brielle, who had her back to me. “So, Miss Brielle, how are you doing on this fine day?”
“Oh, hey. I am doing okay. Happy to be here. You guys did great.”
“Thanks,” I said, sipping my beer. I offered her one, and she reminded me she doesn’t drink.
She stood and began walking away, but I couldn’t help myself; I had to ask.
“You didn’t use my number?”
She turned her head and looked at me. “Are you just stating a fact, or was there supposed to be a question in that statement?”
I smiled and bit my lip. “Still feisty I see.” She smiled. “ Why didn’t you use my number? Better?”
She turned her whole body and crossed her arms. “You were busy when I left that day. I didn’t think you were serious about wanting me to call. I thought you were just being polite.”
I sipped my beer with a smile. “Nonsense. I can never be too busy for a friend.”
Without a missed beat, she cocked an eyebrow. “Are we friends?”
I smiled. “I’d like to think so.”
“Hmm. Good to know.” She turned to walk away.
“So, are you going to use it?” I asked, before letting her get too far. I’m not sure why I wanted her to use it so badly. I almost sounded a little desperate, which is another unusual occurrence for me.
She turned around again and smiled. This time though, I saw something almost a little fearful underneath it. “Nah. I don’t think so,” she responded, before turning and walking away.
“Use it,” I called out.
She didn’t even say goodbye before she left. It wasn’t a problem because I gave my number to Aubrey this time, and she assured me she would give it to Brie.
My brother, Owen, insisted we all go out somewhere tonight, but I lost interest once I realized no one but the band was going. I was still pretty pissed at my brother for harping on me the week before about my drinking.
I used to drink only when we didn’t have shows, but that all changed last month. I started drinking more whenever I had a bad day, which lately had been happening more than I cared to acknowledge.
I spent the rest of the night in my bunk with a six-pack. I told everyone else I was just too tired to go out when, in reality, I just wanted to be somewhere private to wait for a text message that I knew would most likely never come.