Chapter 3
THREE
Ty
? The Ecstacy of Gold - Metallica ?
As we head to sound check, Dani explains that the sound at the side of the stage is shit, so she leads me into the arena and in front of the sound board near the back of the floor.
The band is halfway through their latest single, “Black,” and Josh is killing it on vocals.
It takes me a second to remember that, according to Dani, this only the second song in their warmup and I’m even more in awe of the strength of his voice.
After they finish the song, the sound guys ask Eric to do a few things so they can adjust his volume, and then they talk amongst themselves to determine what song they want to do next.
Eric counts them in with a few clicks of his sticks and I smile when I realize it’s “Whispers.” My heart does something in my chest at the gesture. He knows it’s one of my favorites, and he’s making sure I get the chance to hear it live. They play through it flawlessly as I stand there in a trance.
I’ve always known they were good at what they do, but experiencing it in real time, it becomes obvious why they’re one of the best hard rock bands of all time, selling out arenas and dropping multi-platinum album after multi-platinum album.
They run through the rest of their warmup tracks effortlessly, as if they could do this entire show from start to finish with their eyes closed, before Dani and I make our way to stand in front of the stage.
“Well?” Eric asks as he approaches us.
“Nailed it,” Dani says, looking over to me.
“If that was just the warmup, then sitting outside in the freezing rain for seven hours would definitely have been worth it,” I say.
“Oh, shit,” I hear Josh say. “This is her? You’re the one who was sitting outside?” I cringe and look up at him, expecting to be met with a judgmental glare fitting for the weirdo I am, but am met instead with a stunning smile. “Josh,” he says, crouching down so he can reach out a hand.
Josh Calloway has been the face of Velvet Shadows for the last ten years, and I’d always known he was a good-looking man, but in person?
He’s devastating. He’s wearing gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, a backwards baseball hat, and, in true Josh Calloway style, no shirt.
His dark brown waves fall just above his sculpted shoulders, and I force myself to swallow before I start drooling.
“Ty,” I say, thankful the lights are low, and he can’t see my cheeks flush or hear my internal fan girl screaming, “Oh my god! You’re holding Josh Calloway’s hand!”
“Nice to meet you, Ty,” he says, letting my hand fall back to my side. “Will you be watching from backstage?”
“No offense,” I look back out to the empty arena.
“But I’ve been waiting ten years for to see you guys live.
I’d really like to experience it from out here.
” When I finally look back at Eric, he’s smiling.
“Not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me already today. Because I do. I just…”
“It’s alright,” Eric says, pulling a laminate out of his back pocket and jumping down from the stage to stand in front of me.
Placing it over my head, he pulls my hair free of the lanyard and lets it fall down my back.
“Claim whatever spot you want before they open the doors.” I can’t help the smile that grows across my face.
“Hey, Steve!” he shouts, and one of the security guards turns to face us.
“This is Ty. She goes anywhere she wants, yeah?” The security guard nods.
“Thank you,” I say. “For everything.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ty,” he bends at the waist, takes my hand, and lifts it to his mouth. “Thank you for an…unforgettable evening.” He places a soft kiss to my knuckles before standing back to his full height and letting my hand fall back to my side.
I watch until he disappears from view—my knight in supple leather—before walking the length of the stage twice and settling on a spot slightly off-center to the left, telling myself it’s not so I can see Eric better as the sold-out crowd begins to flood the floor around me.
An hour later, the lights go out, sending the entire arena into darkness, and my heart rate skyrockets in anticipation as the crowd screams and cheers around me.
People on the floor press closer to the rail, and I can see movement on stage as Kevin and Max take their spots stage left and stage right, respectively, and Eric climbs onto his platform and settles in behind his kit.
The opening three beats of his kick drum hit in time with the beat of my heart, and the stage lights come up as Max hammers out the opening riff to “Black,” and the crowd goes absolutely batshit.
Right before he comes in with the vocals, Josh is launched into the air from below the stage, landing in a crouch with catlike reflexes as he flawlessly hits the opening notes, and goosebumps cover every inch of my skin.
It's finally here. The moment I have been waiting for for over ten years, and it is absolutely everything I dreamed it would be. I close my eyes and swallow the sting of tears that burns the back of my throat as the sound pumping through the speakers moves through every cell of my body.
When I open my eyes again, I realize that while I should be tracking Josh across the stage as he turns the crowd to putty in his hands, my eyes are fixed on Eric.
Studying the way his body moves effortlessly as he pounds out note after note.
The way his face is always relaxed, no matter how complicated the patterns get.
The way he loses himself in the music and starts singing along, then catches himself and smiles and shakes his head as if to remind himself to focus.
The little tricks he does with the sticks when he doesn’t think anyone is looking.
The way the muscles in his upper body flex under the cutoff black t-shirt he’s wearing with each flick of his wrist or crossing of his arms.
He is so beautiful it hurts.
As if he knows exactly where I am, his eyes find mine as he plays the last few notes of the opening song, and I swear every single person in attendance disappears around me.
He smiles and I look away first, pretending to focus on Josh as he addresses the crowd for the first time, throwing my hands up to cup my mouth and shouting louder in response to whatever he just asked.
I can feel Eric’s eyes on me the entire time, even when the lights dim once more, and they begin the next song.
I look back up at him, and he pops a stick into the air, catching it again without breaking eye contact.
He shoots a cocky grin and a wink in my direction, and I bite back a smile and roll my eyes, focusing my attention back to Josh and singing the lyrics to my favorite song at the top of my lungs.
The next seventy minutes pass by in a blur, and when they all exit the stage signaling the encore, I’m devastated.
My feet hurt from standing, my ribs are sore from being pressed into the rail by the thousand people behind me, and my vocal cords are fried from screaming every single one of the lyrics, but I’m not ready for it to end.
The band re-emerges to play the last five songs of the set faster than I would have liked.
The lights come back up as they take their final bows and Kevin and Max start tossing guitar picks into the crowd.
Eric waves, tossing a few sticks into the crowd before bending on one knee at the edge of the stage in front of me.
He pulls two sticks out of his back pocket—the ones he’d used and tucked there before stalking toward the crowd—and holds them out toward me.
I reach for them but stop before I can pull them from his hand, because there, on his wrist, is the bracelet he took from me in his dressing room before sound check.
I look up at him and he winks before smiling and releasing the sticks from his grip.
I pull them away and he nods toward the side of the stage.
A silent invitation. I nod once and his smile widens.
He stands, raises his hands once more to the adoring crowd, disappears below the stage, and the only thing I can think is, what the hell am I doing?