Chapter Ten #2
Pointing his microphone to the crowd, Layne encourages them to sing one of the verses. Then he sets the mic in its stand. We’re only halfway through the song. Embers of warning flare in my chest as I watch him stride to the stage’s edge.
Layne dives into the throng. With a roar, the crowd supports him, and he bobs along, grabbing hands as he passes people, singing along with them and smiling.
Thrashing away, I keep one eye on him. My fuming fuels my playing. He fucking knows I hate when he does that. I promised I wouldn’t do anything careless or dangerous and thought he was in agreement.
He’s turned around and heading toward the stage, supported by the crowd passing him overhead.
His arms stretch out to touch more hands.
In a split second his happy expression transforms to horror and he plummets, disappearing from my view.
A collective gasp rises from the people around him. Some stop moving. Too many still dance.
Ice steals through my core. My drumsticks fall from numb fingers. A beat behind me, Gavin and Everett stop playing. The crowd falls silent.
Worry and panic roll over me, tidal waves that crash into each other and drag me under. I jump up. With all the amps and cords running everywhere, the fastest way to get to him is to jump over the damn kit like I promised I wouldn’t do.
My heart pounding, I vault over it. The stage smacks into my boots, the impact vibrating through my legs. The place where Layne disappeared widens to a larger hole in the crowd.
Fear has my voice in a chokehold. Things happen in simultaneously fast and slow motion—event security moving toward that section, Everett and Gavin racing from opposite sides of the stage, people holding their phones up to record the scene.
I reach the edge of the stage, trying to find a place where I can jump off, but Gavin grabs the back of my shirt, holding me in place.
“Wait. Look.” He points to the opening in the crowd.
Layne pops up, supported on the shoulders of two security guards the size of linebackers. He waves to the crowd, and they roar for him, cheering and chanting his name.
Relief slams me back a few staggered steps. My gaze is glued to him, pumping his fist in the air as the guards carry him toward the stage. “Thank fuck he’s okay.”
“I hope he is.” Gavin’s voice is as tight as the hold he still has on me. We don’t know if he hit anything important when he fell.
Blowing out a breath, Everett lays his hand on my shoulder. A slight tremor runs through it. “We have one song to go. He’s fine enough to at least stay in one place and sing. If he needs a doctor, he can see the medical team backstage when we’re done.”
The guards reach us. With his back to the crowd, and only the three of us in front of him, Layne drops his smile. The duck of his head is half-apology, half-embarrassment before he lifts his arms to Gavin and me so we can haul him on stage.
In the corner of my vision, Everett takes his guitar from the tech and slips the strap over his head. He plays something vaguely familiar, but I don’t bother trying to place it.
Layne is in front of me in one piece. I’m relieved and furious, but instead of yelling like I want to, we have to be professional and go on with the show. His hand is shaky in mine. I hold it tighter, ready to throttle him and hug him. “Can you sing?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you need to sit? A stool or something?”
He shakes his head.
“Okay.” Keeping him in my grasp, I walk him the few feet toward the mic stand, scanning him from head to toe as we go.
He squeezes my hand and sucks in a deep breath like he’s steeling himself for the next song.
Then he lets go, grabs the mic, and spins to face the crowd.
That showman’s smile is in place, brilliant as ever.
“My trip to the pit took an unexpected turn. Let’s hear it for the security team for rescuing me.
” When the cheers die down, he continues.
“This is our last song. Let’s get unleashed! ”
I maneuver behind the drum kit and grab my sticks. A nod at Gavin and Everett, and we’re thundering into “Unleashed.”
A fan favorite, loud and fast, a perfect outlet for my anger, frustration, and fear. As I play, I watch Layne moving around with more care than usual and feel the scrutiny and support aimed my way from Soren and Tyler.
I don’t know what to do about Layne. We need to have a band meeting, or maybe just the two of us is better. He’s always told me everything. That he won’t share this is both hurtful and concerning.
The song ends to whistles and cheers rolling over us in waves.
Layne places the mic on the stand. “You’ve been a great crowd. We’re Flame Shade, and we’d love to see you at one of our shows. Thank you and good night!”
Gavin, Everett, and I meet him at center stage. We join hands and bow. People are still cheering as we walk off.
As soon as we get backstage, I whirl on Layne. “What the actual hell? You could’ve been—”
“Shh.” His gaze fixes on something over my shoulder. “Luke’s coming over.”
Tall, dark-haired, and dressed in leather, Luke Thompson shoots us a smile that’s graced countless music magazines and tabloid covers over the years. “That was a hell of a performance.”
“Thank you.” My pulse still thrashing in my temple, the words are sand gritted out between my clenched teeth and fury over my best friend—my brother—and his fucking stunt.
He shakes our hands. “I loved your energy. Scary moment out there at the end, but you came back strong.”
“It was scary.” And dangerous, and stupid, and irresponsible. Clamping my hand on Layne’s shoulder, I try to telegraph how much. “We’re lucky it ended with Layne back onstage and not on his way to the ER.”
“I’m indestructible.” With a cocky grin, Layne holds out his hands. Were it not for the fear I read in his eyes, I’d punch him right now.
Luke’s smile widens at Layne’s word choice. “Indestructible… I remember feeling that way. My bandmates and I had some scary times in our younger years. Hell, we caused half of them. Anyway, you put on a great show, guys. Really impressive. I’ll be in touch.”
He shakes hands with us again, then clasps my shoulder—maybe because he can see I’m concerned about Layne—before he walks away.
“Did you hear that?” Layne twists around, watching Luke go. “He liked us.”
“Did you also hear that what you did was scary?” My attention falls to the bruises on his arms. There’s another on his chin.
He shrugs off my question. “The scary part he referred to was me falling. That’s not something I did. I’m not the one who dropped me.”
Dull pain throbs at my temples. Huffing a sigh, I scrub my hands over my face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does. Anyway, I choose to focus on hell of a performance and I’ll be in touch.”
“You should see the medic.” Concern lines Everett’s eyes and laces through his tone. He gingerly lays his fingertips on Layne’s shoulder. “You had at least a six-foot drop, maybe higher. Just get checked over.”
Layne runs his hand over his hair. “I’m okay, a little bruised, but not broken. Think I might take off.”
Gavin links his hand with Everett’s. “But we’re supposed to go to the diner. The four of us do it every year.”
“Bax!” Soren’s voice rings out. Dodging equipment, techs, and event staff, he hurries toward me with Tyler beside him.
Both are wearing Flame Shade shirts and jeans and have their coats tucked under their arms. Tyler tackle-hugs me into Soren and claims a kiss before a warm hand on my cheek guides me to Soren’s lips. My men taste of alcohol with a layer of chocolate and mint.
Wrapping me in a hug of his own, Soren beams with pride. “You were amazing up there. All of you.”
Tyler sweeps his fingers over the Metros logo on my chest. “You really wore it.”
“Told you I would.” I slip my hand into his hair. “And I’ll wear a Slash shirt for Soren next time.”
Soren shakes hands with Everett, then Gavin. “Great set. I was blown away. Hey, where’s Layne?”
I spin, scanning the area. “He was just here… I’ll text him.”
Bax: Where are you?
Layne: Heading home.
Bax: What about the diner? Are you sure you’re feeling okay?
Layne: Just not in the mood.
I show the messages to Gavin. “So, what do we do?”
He shrugs. “He’s not gonna talk about what’s bugging him until he’s ready. We might as well go without him.”
“I guess.” I tuck my phone away, but putting aside my concern for Layne is much harder. Gavin is right. Layne is stubborn as hell, and if he’s not ready to talk, he won’t. “Everyone ready?”
Soren slips his arm around my waist, I wrap my arm around Tyler’s shoulders, and after a quick stop to grab our coats from the dressing room and stow our equipment in Gavin’s van, we set off with Everett and Gavin.
Outside the arena, the icy chill of early February tingles our faces and draws us to huddle closer together for warmth during the three-block walk to the diner.
We settle into a booth at the back. Soren and Tyler cram into one side with me, and Gavin and Everett settle across from us.
I like being tucked in between them and how well they get along with my bandmates.
We order burgers and fries for Everett and me, pancakes for Soren, a BLT for Tyler, and chicken and waffles for Gavin.
Coming down from the high of performing while sharing food and chatting about the show together is one of the things I really enjoy and Layne’s absence is noticeable.
Doing this without him doesn’t feel right.
I still can’t get the image of him plummeting into the crowd out of my mind, but each kiss and caress from Soren and Tyler helps ease the stress of seeing Layne fall.
When I climb into Soren’s bed with them at the end of the night, and they wrap me in their arms, I can pretend for a moment that all is right in my world. And hope for a time when my best friend isn’t falling apart, because I’m not sure how to put him back together.