Chapter Two
MERCS
When I got the call from Luke Bellamy, manager of the hottest all-girl rock group of the moment, Luminous, I was instantly buzzing with excitement.
Over the years, I’ve built a solid reputation in this industry as a certified Electrical Lighting Technician, or ELT, but this time, I’m stepping into an even bigger role of Lighting Director for Luminous.
I know my way around a stage and take pride in delivering flawless lighting and precision techniques. I stay ahead of the curve, always up to date with the latest trends and cutting-edge equipment.
But joining Luminous on the American leg of their tour?
Well, damn.
How could I say no to that?
It’s not just the incredible experience I’ll gain, it’s also the paycheck. And let’s be real, I need that money. Desperately.
My eighteen-year-old sister, Kiera, was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia a while back, and everything in my life has revolved around finding a way to a cure.
She’s so sick most of the time, and I’ve had to take leave from work to care for her.
But being the main breadwinner, I’ve had to return to touring to make sure both Kiera and Gran, who’s Kiera’s primary carer when I’m away, are taken care of financially.
Every cent I earn, every dollar I’ve saved, it has all gone toward Kiera’s treatments. With no health plan in place, the drain has been brutal. So yeah, earning what I can on tour with some rocking chicks from Australia sounds fucking good to an all-American, twenty-five-year-old guy like me.
I grew up in Ligonier, a really small town in Pennsylvania. With a population of just over fifteen hundred, it’s quaint and cute, but I needed more. I wanted to see the world. Music is in my blood, but my voice sucks, and I don’t have the patience to learn an instrument.
So I did the next best thing.
I took to the stage.
Well, above it.
I went to college and became proficient in backstage infrastructure. Lighting draws you in close, building an intimate connection between the audience and the artists. But above all, it can blow you away with huge, dynamic movements that match the music’s strength and emotion.
Lighting, for me, is vibrant, electric, and showy.
I love nothing more than creating bold graphic patterns by painting the air with color to match a band’s intensity and vibe.
My journey started as a stagehand and led me to lighting and production.
Eventually, I scored an apprenticeship under one of the best lighting directors in the industry—John “The Illuminator” Parker.
The guy is a legend. He taught me everything, including stage design, lighting techniques, and a hundred tricks of the trade like syncing light cues perfectly to audio pulses.
You name it, I learned it. That’s why I’m so damn good at what I do, and why the music industry across the States keeps calling me back.
I’ve just wrapped a tour with The Living Dead, and technically, I was meant to be heading home for a break to see Kiera and Gran before signing up for another long haul.
But when opportunity knocks, and all that...
I know Kiera will understand.
At least, I hope she does.
My stomach tightens just thinking about leaving her again.
I want so much more for her.
Crappy background music fills the dimly lit hall as I try to figure out where the hell I’m going. I know I’ve been here before, but it was a while ago, and when you’ve been in so many massive stadiums, all the corridors blur together.
Glancing up, I note a door marked ‘Stage Crew.’ This will be my home for the next two nights.
So much so, I won’t even bother getting a hotel room.
I’ll be here early before the show and way late after the show ends anyway, so I may as well find a couch and surf on it.
No point wasting good money if I don’t need to.
Opening the door, I step inside. The room is small, but there’s at least a working refrigerator and a microwave.
Shrugging, I throw my backpack over by the sofa and move to the refrigerator, the door squeaking as I pull it open.
I smirk when I see an array of flavored waters, both natural and spring.
With a deep sigh, I shake my head. “Do these women think we’re hippies or something? We’re men. And men want beer. Real alcohol. Not fucking water,” I mutter, grabbing a berry-flavored bottle in defeat and taking a long gulp.
There’s a hint of bitterness alongside sweetness, which is a contrast I wasn’t expecting. And, I’ve got to admit, it’s… refreshing. As the cooling liquid slides down my throat, I raise my brows in surprise and feel my lips twitch into a reluctant smile.
‘Don’t judge a book, Kaden.’ Kiera’s voice echoes in my head in that soft, ever-wise tone of hers.
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I dial home.
“Hey, Kades! What’s up? How are you settling in?” Kiera answers, bright as ever.
“Just arrived. About to go suss out what I need to do. Thought I’d check in, see how you and Gran are coping without me.”
She snorts. “We’re always better without you…” Then she giggles, and I smile.
“Yeah, yeah, I don’t believe that for a second.”
“You’re right. Do you know how excited I’d be if I could be there with you? You know how much I love Luminous. Those girls kick serious ass.”
“I know. And I wish it were different, but you need to focus on staying well and getting rest.”
“Screw that… I want to party like a rock star.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Do you wanna speak to Gran?”
“Nah. Just a quick call to say hi and let you know I’m here. I’ll call again later today or tomorrow, depending on my schedule. Say hi to Gran for me?”
“Will do. Love you, talk later. Have fun, but not too much.”
“Love you too.”
Ending the call, I feel that ache settle in my chest. I really wish Kiera could be here with me. She adores Luminous, and I’d give anything to take her to one of their shows. But right now, it’s just not possible.
Sadly, there’s nothing I can do about that except work.
So with that in mind, I head back into the hall toward the stage area.
I don’t see anyone else around, or if they’re here, they’re keeping a low profile.
I know I’m early, but it’s my first day, and I want to scope everything out.
Get a feel for how they’ve been running things before I tear it all down.
Things need to be done a certain way.
I learned that the hard way after the Staples Center in LA. That show was a disaster, leaving the band with a major PR mess to clean up.
Hence why I’m here now.
When I don’t get my way, I can be grumpy, but that’s also why my shows are the best.
It’s not cocky, it’s not arrogance, it’s just facts. I’ve earned my reputation, and Luke knows it. That’s why he hired me, why Luminous hired me.
To make their shows unforgettable.
Their sound is already spectacular. I’ve listened to them, and hell, I’m impressed. For tiny little things, they can belt out a tune. But with my lighting? Their on-stage presence is about to go next level.
Walking along the corridor, I reach the open expanse that is the backstage area…
And it’s a damn mess.
I grit my teeth.
Lighting equipment is scattered, with no sense of order. Speakers and instruments are dumped randomly. This is chaos at its best.
Fucking hell, this shit irritates me.
No wonder there was a fire at their last show. This is a hazard, and they need someone to keep them in line… desperately.
Shaking my head, I step into the mess and begin inspecting. At least the gear’s high quality. That’s something, I suppose. The lighting setup is top-tier, hi-tech, new, and the exact brand I’d personally recommend.
So they’ve got the right stuff.
They just don’t know how to look after it.
I get to work, packing everything into the proper containers, stacking it with care, and making sure it’s protected for setup and teardown. Broken globes or damaged cables are not an option on my watch.
This shit costs a fortune.
How could they be so fucking careless?
Sweat beads on my brow as I work—lifting, organizing, clearing space. After a while, the chaos is gone, and two neat, orderly stacks now sit where a tangled disaster once lived—one for lighting and rigging, the other for instruments and amps.
This is how it must be done.
This is the breakdown that will happen at the end of every show.
This is how things run with me in charge.
I hope the Luminous crew is ready for me.
All that exertion has me sweating. My white shirt clings uncomfortably, so I strip it off and toss it over my shoulder. Wiping my brow, I blow out a puff of air.
That’s when it happens.
A round of applause.
I jump, spinning so fast I nearly trip. Turning toward the back of the stage, I see her. A tiny-framed woman, sitting on the end of the stairs, just watching me, and she is clapping.
What’s more… she’s wearing a giraffe onesie.
In Phoenix.
In July.
What the fuck?
She keeps clapping like she’s genuinely impressed. I glance around, trying to see what she’s looking at, but there’s nothing else. Just me, and the gear I organized.
I stare back, unsure.
Her bright smile doesn’t fade.
“You did amazing,” she calls out.
“Uhh… what?”
She gestures toward the neatly organized equipment, then smiles again, even brighter, if that’s possible.
She’s unnerving.
Far too pretty.
And way too old to be wearing a giraffe onesie.
What is with that?
“All that heavy lifting, and not to mention the sorting… I never would have thought to do that. It’s so… organized. It’s much better than how we were doing it.”
I raise a brow, glancing around like I’m about to be Punk’d, but nope it’s still just me and the giraffe onesie.
I look back at her. “When you say how we were doing it, you mean…”