33. Zak
Zak waved off the equipment manager for the fifth time since she walked off stage after their Nashville show. She reclined against a speaker box, toweling the sweat from her forehead as she polished off the rest of a water bottle and soaked in her last few minutes of rest. It was dark and musty back here. The perfect place to hide from Scott’s replacement.
On stage, the lights dimmed.
The scream of the crowd swelled as Abstraction opened with their fastest-tempo song. Thrashing guitar filled the stadium, then Izzy’s voice. Impossibly clean and controlled when she sang, and loud and harsh when she screamed.
It had been a while since Zak was there for the opening songs, and it was nice to feel like part of the audience again. Even if it was from behind a divider, holding a guitar that didn’t belong to her, rather than standing in front of the stage with a cold drink in her hand.
After the third song, Izzy turned to the side and caught Zak’s eye with a smile on her face full of pure chaos. “I have the best surprise for you tonight, Nashville.”
Some singers’ voices were apparent in the way they talked. Chase was that way. His upper register was the only thing tucked away in his casual speaking voice, while the tone remained the same.
Others were loose cannons. Link’s sound had changed entirely with a microphone in his hand. The Texas drawl wiped away and replaced with something crisp and energized. And Izzy’s was night and day. Like something possessed her in between speaking and singing.
Jensen went harder at the drums, which had quieted in the background.
Izzy let go of her bass and waved to Zak, and before she could second-guess whether this was a terrible plan, Zak walked out on stage.
They hadn’t rehearsed the run-of-show for obvious reasons—the new tour manager wouldn’t have approved a stunt like this in a million years—so Zak was completely oblivious when Izzy hugged her, careful not to bang their instruments together, and carted her to center stage with one arm around her shoulder.
“I’m sure you remember my girl, Zak Parker,” Izzy teased into the microphone. Reactions swept through the crowd. “Give her another warm welcome for me! Alright, everybody?”
Izzy and Zak shared a small chuckle as whistles and screams popped off.
Zak took a few steps to the side and riffed around, getting used to the feel of Bobby’s guitar. Following the drumbeat while Izzy hyped up the crowd.
The drumbeat slowed, and Zak’s playing slowed with it.
Recognition compounded throughout the audience as they reached the final tempo of the “War Pigs” cover that was on Abstraction’s setlist for tonight.
Without the time to rehearse, Zak spent the first few minutes getting acclimated to playing with an entirely different group of people. Izzy’s band didn’t appear to do a whole lot of communicating or watching one another, and they’d been indifferent about the guest appearance idea from the moment Izzy looped them in.
If anything, Gemma had been ecstatic to offer up her spot on stage while Bobby painstakingly reviewed every facet of his guitar with Zak as if she didn’t know what a Gibson Firebrand was—which she did—or how to play one. Which she obviously did.
But even a department store mannequin could have stage chemistry with Izzy, so at least that part came naturally once the vocals kicked in.
Izzy was a master of working the crowd. She moved like the music was electrocuting her. She made ripping through metal vocals look as easy as singing the A-B-Cs. She managed to find time between singing and playing the bass to smile at the thousands of people like she was building a personal connection with each one of them.
Whether Izzy’s idea did anything to save Zak and Chase’s likability remained to be seen, but at the very least, Zak was having fun in the process.
Whatever the headlines said tomorrow, she knew everyone in the crowd tonight felt her and Izzy’s bond. Not animosity or jealousy, or whatever else might have been expected of them.
They danced together, laughed together. Got their hair tangled together as they headbanged to the instrumental breaks.
Only on the rarest of occasions did Zak set aside perfection and prioritize the sheer thrill of putting on a show, but tonight she fell under Izzy’s influence. She followed her friend’s lead. The lead of the music. Performing with someone so dynamic was new and exhilarating.
It was overwhelming in a way that almost made Zak miss Chase and her father, standing together in the front row. Cheering her on louder than the next five sections combined. And, in between, sharing glances of pride, astonishment, and some sort of unspoken understanding.
A year ago, Zak would’ve said that she’d be more likely to top the charts on an international tour than to be in love with a man and have a relationship with her dad again. Somehow, she’d ended up with all three.
It was quite a way to mend the hard feelings about the premature expiration of their first contract.
“What do you think?” Izzy shouted out after they wrapped up the song. She took Zak’s hand in her own and raised it in the air. “Should we get her to stay on for another one?”
Zak stepped back from the microphone and lowered her voice. “What?”
Izzy answered with an exuberant smile. “You know ‘Cherry Bomb’, right?”
“Of course,” Zak said, trying not to sound offended.
“Perfect. Let’s do it, then!”
She chose not to question it, and not to care about the dirty looks Bobby and Jensen shot her way when she took the lead on the intro, or when she got a little carried away with the solo. Chose to cave into peer pressure when Izzy motioned for her to shout backing vocals into a shared microphone, despite having no desire to even half-sing in front of a crowd this large.
By the time she returned Bobby’s guitar to its stand and stumbled backstage, there was a mess of crew waiting for her. A lecture already spewing out of their new tour manager’s mouth.
She absently nodded along until he was finished. At which point, she couldn’t stop herself from laughing in his face. “We’re already fired from the label. You let me know if Trevor wants to kick us off the tour, too. My bags are already packed.”
Zak had seen herself in rock music since the first time she watched her dad play at a dive bar. If anyone wanted to pry this life away from her, it was going to take more than threats, screwy legal documents, and a bad reputation.