Chapter 3 – Lumen
Chapter Three
Lumen
Theo makes it off the stage, and I stay close to the wall. The guitar techs grab the guys’ instruments, and the sound guys collect their mixers while others hand over water and towels.
As soon as he’s done, Theo looks around for me. A bright smile crosses his face when he spots me, and he weaves his way over, pulling me into his chest. He’s sweaty, but performing is a solid workout.
Dipping his head to mine, he gives me a quick kiss. “Did you enjoy the show?”
“I always do.”
“We killed it tonight.” He grins. “They loved everything we did.”
“Come on, bro,” Jesse says, slapping Theo on the back as the security guys release the fans who have been waiting for just this moment. “We gotta sign autographs and take pictures.”
“We’ll catch up as soon as I’m free,” Theo says, squeezing my ass. “I heard there’s a big party tonight.”
“I’ll be around,” I tell him, but he’s already stepping back and into the crush of bodies.
I sigh, trying to shake off the funk I’ve been in. I never understood that saying about being alone in a crowd. Not until now.
Theo does his best to make sure I’m not forgotten, and I appreciate it. I still feel like the third wheel when it comes to him and the fans.
Turning back toward the stage, I lean against the wall and focus on Liminal.
It’s rare for the headliner to go out immediately following the opening act stepping off stage, but I bet it’s nice for the audience since they don’t have to wait. That break between bands is used for the stage to be changed over, and I have no idea why this venue is different.
Liminal has more spotlights and pyrotechnics than Tangled Desires, but that’s not unusual since they’re the headliner.
Kincaid is at the front of the stage, leaning forward and singing into his mic. I’ve seen this song performed live during a few shows, and as soon as his intro verses are over, he’ll be singing and playing.
It’s an almost eerie experience with Kincaid’s raspy tone and Riser’s low, methodical slams of his sticks.
Malcolm is closest to my side of the stage, and his forearms flex as he plays. It’s clear he’s holding back to match the tempo, but that man is insane when it comes to guitar solos.
It’s crazy being able to watch such a seasoned band from backstage access and have it not cost a dime.
I still can’t believe how much life has changed for us in so little time.
When it comes to partying, I’m not at rock-star level. My head pounds with a wicked hangover the next day as the guys practice. Although my mouth is weirdly dry, every time I drink more than a few sips of water, I feel like I’m going to hurl.
I’m miserable and confused how everyone else managed to crawl out of bed when they have to feel like death warmed over.
I keep my noise-blocking earplugs in, humming under my breath while I try to focus enough to get out the verse I’m trying to work on.
It takes ages, but I finally fall into the zone. I’m so unaware of what’s happening around me that I jolt when Theo tosses his arm around my shoulder, kissing my temple before plucking out my earplug.
“We’re done,” he says close to my ear. “You plan to come get something to eat with us, or do you want to stick around?”
I try not to let it annoy me, but I huff.
I knew he wasn’t really listening when I brought it up yesterday.
“I’m going to see what I can do in the time before Liminal comes in. Why don’t you stay with me, and we can eat together after?”
“I’m starving, Lu,” Theo says, kissing my cheek. “The guys from Liminal partied just as late as we did. There’s no chance they’re making it in to practice early.”
Before I can protest, he leans around my chair, pecking an awkward kiss on my lips.
Then…
He’s gone, sauntering out with his bandmates.
The door closes with a metal, raking thump while I continue to stare, blinking incredulously.
Wow.
I don’t love feeling abandoned, but it’s even worse to feel like I was straight-up dismissed.
It’s not like I asked him to sit with me while I went to get my nails done.
This is for him.
I guess it’s technically for us, but it’s starting to seem less and less like that’s the case.
A slow clapping makes me jolt as I place the guitar back on the rack.
The guitar techs and the rest of the team should be in to swap out the instruments anytime. That’s who must have been watching me practice.
Spinning around, my jaw falls.
It’s not part of the crew.
It’s Malcolm, Liminal’s rhythm guitarist.
Last night, he was in his wolf mask. His is the most intricate, with its opening and closing hinged jaw full of teeth.
It’s insane to see it move as he sings.
It’s matte black with an almost pearlescent dark purple and silver overlay lining the bones and teeth.
Creepy and beautiful all in one.
It must have been insanely hard to create.
Shops carry replicas, but none of them come even close to the level of craftsmanship used to create his mask.
He also has a version that covers only the top half of his face. It still has the bones of the jaw and sharp teeth, but it frames the lower half of his face without blocking his mouth from view. I’ve never seen him perform in that one live, though I have seen pictures of it.
The man in question is fresh-faced today as he stares at me intently, quirking a brown brow.
I blink repeatedly, trying to force my brain to work.
If he asked a question, I definitely missed it.
If the press is correct, Malcolm is the most playful of all the members of Liminal. He’s a bit of a shameless flirt and the wild card. Or that’s what I’ve read in articles about the band.
From what I’ve seen during their shows, he’s an all-around talented musician, and I have no idea how long he was watching me fumble through singing the practice lyrics while trying to play a guitar that’s too big for my hands.
Okay, that’s technically a shitty excuse, but I have way smaller hands than Theo, so it counts.
A lazy smile crosses his face, and my heart rate picks up.
Now is not the time to be starstruck.
Now is the time to scurry away and pray he just walked in.
Seriously, what is happening to my life?
Kincaid bumped into me before Liminal went on stage last night, and now I’m casually running into Malcolm with no screaming fans or security around to tackle me if I freaked out and begged for his autograph.
Which I would never do.
Mostly because it would embarrass Theo.
Speaking of my boyfriend, he’s never going to believe this.
“You must be good at getting around security,” Malcolm says, nodding at me as his pointy canines dig into his lower lip.
Jesus.
No wonder women turn melty when he looks at them.
He’s hot.
Malcolm’s wavy brown hair falls an inch or two past his shoulders, and his blue eyes are so shocking that they stand out in comparison to his dark stubble. He has big black gauges in his ears, along with a few other ear piercings.
Both nostrils are pierced with silver hoops, while a surface piercing falls just under the compass tattoo that covers his throat.
Actually, he has tattoos covering every inch of visible skin from his neck down to his fingers.
He’s wearing a tank top with the sides ripped down to the top of his jeans and combat boots.
Okay.
Malcolm is basically the rock-star aesthetic personified.
And I’m still blinking like an idiot.
My hand flies to my chest, pulling up the badge held up by the lanyard around my neck.
“I don’t have to dodge security, because I’m allowed to be back here,” I say, smiling tightly. “But I know it’s close to when you guys are supposed to practice, so I’ll get out of your way.”
“Is the label bringing in a new opening act?” he asks, his head tilting.
“Not that I know of.” I take off toward the stairs and make my way down.
Not all arenas have a practice setup like this one does. Having a smaller space to work on songs is a luxury, but tomorrow will be my last day to practice here before we move on to the next city and venue.
“What was that song you were working on?” Malcolm asks as I make it to the table with all my stuff. “Did the label send you? Are you working with us next?”
I freeze.
Shit.
No one outside of the band knows I write the lyrics for Tangled Desires. As for the music, I give them a basic composition, and they each put their own twist on it, changing it up and adding the little tricks that I can’t, because I don’t play every single instrument.
I can play guitar and occasionally embarrass myself on the drums, but that’s about it, outside of what I learned from my high school piano lessons.
However, I’m familiar enough with the notes and chord progressions that I can give them a basic piece to work on and improve.
It’s an amalgamation of all of us coming together to make the final product.
“My boyfriend is Theo from Tangled Desires,” I say, finally locating my voice.
“No shit?” His head bobs, and a bright smile breaks out on his face.
Damn.
Those are a lot of straight, white teeth.
I bet he had braces.
My parents never had money for that kind of thing. Two of my teeth slightly overlap on the bottom, and I’m still self-conscious about it to this day. It’s hardly noticeable unless I’m smiling or someone is staring directly at my mouth, but I always notice when people have really nice teeth.
“Is that one of theirs?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before, and I’ve listened in on pretty much their entire set.”
“I was just messing around.” I grab my bottle of water, phone, and notebook off the table, preparing to escape. “It’s not anything.”
At least not yet.
And it might never be.
Some pieces are like that. No matter how much I tinker and try to force it to work, it just doesn’t come together.
“I don’t know about that. I was intrigued,” he says from behind me.
“Thanks.” I spin around with my arms now full of my stuff, and there’s a lazy smile on his face. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your way.”
“We’ve got like ten minutes before the rest of the band gets here. Want me to play with you?” he offers, shoving his tattooed hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “If you play it one more time, I can pick it up.”
I blink as my brain short-circuits.
Did Malcolm of Liminal offer to play guitar with me? I’m fairly sure that’s what happened, but also positive that would never go down in my life.
Maybe I’m hallucinating?
I’m still way too hungover to deal with this. I need some water and electrolytes. That must be why nothing makes sense.
“I gotta go,” I say, my head bobbing awkwardly as I spin around to head toward the exit.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he calls after me.
“Lumen.”
“Lumen. Huh. That’s unique. I definitely won’t forget it.” He chuckles. “I’m Malcolm, by the way, but you can call me Mal.”
“See ya around, Mal,” I toss over my shoulder as I hit the door to exit the practice room.
Does he truly believe there’s anyone in this building who doesn’t know who he is? He must be messing with me because I pointed out that I knew he was a member of Liminal.
Being on the road with rock stars is so foreign. I have no idea what I’m doing anymore.
I get smart and grab my own lunch on the way back to the bus.
No one outside of Remmy is around as I drop my stuff and take a seat on the couch in the living room.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, pulling the blanket off the back of the sofa and dropping it over my lap as I kick out of my shoes.
“Not a clue,” Remmy says, shrugging. “How did your practice go?”
My head falls back against the couch cushion as I fill him in on what went down. “…I think I’m still in shock.”
Remmy quirks an eyebrow. “You must be sick if you passed up that opportunity.”
“Nah.” I laugh, shaking my head. “It felt too much like cheating on you guys.”
I’m ninety percent joking.
“Okay, real talk.” His face gets serious, and he pushes out of his chair, coming over to sit next to me on the couch.
I don’t like the look on his face, and my stomach tightens.
“You know I love Theo, but I care about you too,” Remmy says, patting my leg over the blanket. “I want you to look out for yourself. You know what I mean? Don’t turn down opportunities if they pop up. That’s all I’m trying to say.”
My head bobs in a shaky nod.
I get it.
All those things I warned myself about before Theo left to come on tour are still true.
As much as it hurt, I put a lot of thought into if I should break up with him just because I wanted him to be able to enjoy himself. Then I considered staying together but not coming with them on tour.
“You changed our trajectory when you started writing for us,” Remmy says, drawing me out of my thoughts. “You deserve to see your dreams come true too.”
A part of me is afraid he’s right. If I don’t look out for myself, I’m not sure Theo will do it for me. At some point, I might get there, but I’m not there yet.
Theo is hot.
He’s a talented musician.
We enjoy the same foods and shows.
I love him.
Being with him makes me happy, but with our designations and his career in front of him, I’m just not sure that’s enough, and it really sucks.