Chapter Three
EFFA
A surge rushes through me, the high, the endorphins kicking in strong, pulsing through my veins like an electrical current igniting the fire inside.
I live for this.
The air I breathe is thick with the crowd’s passion, roaring and chanting my name. Lights explode in pinks and greens, a neon celebration dancing across the stadium, illuminating the fans as they bounce in time with our music.
I adore the thrill.
The excitement.
The energy.
This is home.
The stage buzzes with life as we power through our final song. Cannons erupt, the crowd screams, and beach balls tumble from the rafters while confetti showers the stadium in a rainbow storm.
I grin at Casey, who beams back while singing backing vocals for our encore, “Malibu Intoxication,” hence the beach balls and color burst.
The crowd swats the balls through the air, loving every second of the chaos, and as I belt out the last lyrics, a cascading waterfall streams down behind us. It’s epic. Especially now, with Mercs’ lighting slicing through the water. The word Luminous flickers through the shimmering veil like magic.
Mercs isn’t just a lighting director…
He is the one who decides what the fans see, what they feel, and when they lose their damn minds.
He doesn’t just illuminate the stage, he owns every second of it.
He’s a goddamn genius.
And worth every cent we pay him.
“Goodnight Luminatis, you’ve been Phoenix, and we’ve been Luminous,” I shout, strumming the final chord before the waterfall intensifies, which is our cue to slip offstage, hidden from view.
The crowd’s eruption is deafening, vibrating through my entire body in a wave of pure elation.
Backstage, the girls gather around me, all of us breathless and giddy, feeding off the crowd’s energy as they stomp and chant our name like a war cry.
We burst into laughter, grabbing each other in a group hug, riding the high. This was our loudest crowd reaction ever, and yeah, we nailed it tonight, but the visuals? They pushed it over the top.
That’s all Mercs.
The guy I met this morning.
The guy I haven’t stopped thinking about since watching him haul gear around like it weighed nothing, then peel off his shirt to reveal a ridiculously fit body.
Those abs. That ink trailing down his arm.
He was so distracting, I had to force myself to look away.
Pretty sure he didn’t even notice me. Hell, he only realized I was there when I clapped.
But now I can’t stop wondering...
Was he up there in the rafters? Watching me? Thinking about me like I’ve been thinking about him?
“Effa? Earth to Effa?” Kristy snaps her fingers in front of my face, jolting me back to the now.
I blink and look around. All the girls are staring at me, the crowd still chanting in the background. “Huh? Sorry, what?”
“You were amazing tonight.” Kristy’s smile is full wattage. “And that lighting? Holy shit. Has anyone actually met the new guy?”
“I did,” I say, tilting my head. “This morning when I came in.”
Casey claps her hands, bouncing on her toes. “Ooh! What’s he like? Is he hot? Should I shag him? Keep him in line?”
I wrinkle my nose as Andi rolls her eyes, and both Alana and Kristy cross their arms. “No. Don’t screw him,” I suggest flatly.
Casey pouts, lips curled. “Ugh, so he’s a troll like Dennis? Why can’t we get hot roadies around here?” she whines loud enough for the nearby crew to glance over with raised brows.
“Casey… shh! And no, he’s the opposite. Actually, really, really good look—”
“Yes!” she jumps in.
“But we’re not messing this up. He’s way too good at his job to risk losing him because one of us decided to get handsy.”
“Nooo, Effa. I love you, but the groupies are getting stale. I need new meat,” Casey insists, wiggling her brows.
“Jesus, Casey. You sound like a nympho. Chill out,” Andi scolds.
“But I am a nympho! I can’t help it if I love the D,” Casey shouts without an ounce of shame.
The roadies glance over again, all grinning now, and she winks at Benny, our guitar tech, who promptly blushes and scurries away.
“Okay, you love the D, we all love the D, but Mercs is off limits. Got it?” I state firmly, and they all eye me with amusement.
“Mercs?” Alana asks.
“Yeah, that’s what he goes by. A nickname, I guess.”
“Sounds like a luxury car,” Alana quips.
“That’s what I said.” I giggle, and the others smirk.
Luke walks over holding a cooler bag. “It’s short for Mercury, his last name. And no, no relation to Freddie. I checked.”
Everyone deflates in disappointment. “Bummer,” Kristy says, patting my shoulder like she’s mourning a dream.
Luke hands each of us a bottle of flavored water. “You girls were on fire tonight. And with Mercs’ lighting? Easily your best show yet. Especially after the Staples Center drama. Really proud of you.”
I down half my berry water in one go, relishing the tart sweetness.
“So…” Andi says, stretching. “New guy’s a keeper. Tonight was a win. Now I need weed, booze, and a chance to let loose.”
“You don’t have any hair to let down,” Casey retorts.
We all laugh as Andi punches her arm.
Casey yelps and rubs the spot, but she is still grinning. “Ouch, you bitch. Is that how you treat your favorite cousin?”
“You’re only a cousin by blood. In my head, you’re just the band freak,” Andi teases.
Casey gasps, clutching her chest. “Ohhh, burn. That hurt. The pain... I’m dying!” She staggers dramatically, then breaks into a huge smile.
Andi walks off, smirking over her shoulder. “I hate you, Casey.”
“I love you too, Andi!” Casey yells after her.
Andi throws up her hand and flips her the bird. “Love you too, bitch.”
“After-party?” Kristy asks, glancing at us all.
“Hell yeah!” Casey jumps up and down, then darts after Andi like she’s been set loose.
Alana and Kristy start walking off, and I pause, glancing over my shoulder toward the back of the stage and up to the rafters. I imagine Mercs is up there, packing down the lighting rig or checking equipment.
I wonder if he’ll come to the after-party.
I hope so.
“You coming, Effa?” Alana calls in her sweet voice. When I glance over, her long blonde waves fall perfectly around her face, like something out of a shampoo ad.
“Yeah, I’m coming.”
I take one last look up, but Mercs is nowhere to be seen. So with a deep breath, I turn and head toward the green room with the others.
The hallway buzzes with energy. The crew is still hustling, people chatting, laughter bouncing off the walls. The high from the show lingers in the air, electric and heady.
Inside the green room, Andi’s already sprawled on the sofa, shirt off, lighting up a joint like it’s her job. Her short, red-dyed hair is damp with sweat, clinging to her neck.
I roll my eyes.
This woman never wastes time.
Alana’s raiding the buffet, piling food on a plate. She always eats like she’s starving post-show and somehow never gains a single ounce. With her girl-next-door charm, you’d think she belonged in a country band instead of our chaotic rock world.
Casey’s at the refrigerator, grabbing her signature vodka. Her long black hair is out of its ponytail now, spilling over her pale shoulders. With her Snow White looks—dark hair, fair skin, and bold red lips—she stands out no matter what room she’s in.
Kristy’s tucked in the corner, glued to her phone. Probably checking social media, scouting our tags and mentions from tonight’s performance. It’s her thing. None of us is really into socials, so we leave it all to her.
Luke’s across from Andi, also on his phone, likely working, because he never stops.
“I’ve got your after-party booked in the VIP room at a nearby club,” he says, eyes still on his screen. “Security’s set. We can head over whenever you’re ready.”
Andi takes a long drag while Casey pops the cap off her bottle and takes a swig.
“Yep. Let’s go,” I offer, just as Kristy and Alana start drifting my way.
“Where are the groupies?” Kristy asks, raising a brow.
I’ve been wondering the same.
Luke sighs. “They’re already at the club in the VIP area. Figured it was better to keep them there instead of in here. Green room is for you girls.”
I nod. “Fair enough. Let’s get moving. I need a drink.
” Looping my arms through Kristy and Alana’s, we head out.
The second we do, I clock the two security guys falling in behind us.
It’s hard not to notice things like that now.
It’s cool in one way because it kind of screams you’ve made it, but it also means privacy is gone.
As we walk, Kristy clears her throat. “So… look, I know we’re the Three Amigos. You two are step-sisters. I’m the honorary bestie. We go way back. Which means… I gotta be real with you.”
Alana and I exchange a glance. A little shiver races up my spine as Kristy’s not usually cryptic unless something’s bugging her.
“Kris, you’re scaring me,” I mutter.
She gives a soft smile. “It’s not bad. I’ve just… um, noticed Andi’s been more on edge than usual lately.”
Alana snorts. “That’s just Andi. She’s permanently on edge.”
Kristy glances over her shoulder, so I do the same. Andi, Luke, and Casey are trailing behind. Not too far, but enough.
“Maybe,” Kristy says. “But I think we should keep an eye on her. Just in case.”
“Fair,” I reply with a nod. “I’ll pay attention. She’s seemed a bit snappier, but I chalked it up to lack of sleep. Still, I’ll watch for any changes.”
Kristy exhales. “Good. The last thing we need is the tour derailing before it’s even started.”
“Noted,” I assure her.
As we reach the end of the hall, more security steps in, some flanking us from behind, others falling into place ahead.
“You ladies ready to head to the Hummer?” Raoul asks, his faint French accent smoothing out every word.
I flash him a grin. “Yep. Let’s do this.”
He nods, and his team surrounds Kristy, Alana, and me. A few others stay back to escort Luke, Andi, and Casey.