Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(77)
“Thanks. Anyway, enough of my shit. Come with me to the concert,” he said, his voice quiet. “Maybe it can be the last crazy thing you do with a rock star. Maybe it can be the last crazy thing I do as a rock star.” He smiled, but his eyes looked sad.
Resigned.
Slowly, also resigned, I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. “I better not miss that flight, Vaughan.”
“You come along with me and don’t like what you see or hear … the minute you say so, I’ll get you out of there and it’s a Stage Dive limo straight to the airport. Deal?”
“You know, you should get out of rock ’n’ roll and do psychology,” I grumbled. “Deal.”
*
Backstage hadn’t changed any. Lots of busy people and equipment on the go.
With no fuss we made our way through security, one of Sam’s men appearing at my back. No one questioned us further once he was there. Vaughan took control of my luggage—more in case I tried to make a run for it than to be helpful, I think. I’d never imagined being in this position again—access to all areas, escorted down hallways and up stairs to the side of the stage. I wasn’t a girlfriend anymore. I wasn’t anything.
So what the hell was this all about?
The band were playing “Last Back,” a hit off the previous album. Anne, Ev, and Lena were over on the other side of the stage, weirdly enough. I was pretty much on my own, apart from some sound guys and Pam, the tour photographer. She was a nice woman, married to Tyler, one of the favored sound engineers. They’d both been with the band for ages.
When Anne saw me, she cocked her head curiously, giving me a wave.
I waved back but stayed put.
The song came to an earsplitting crescendo, finishing with a staccato frenzy of belted chords. At point-blank range the noise shuddered up through my ankles and quivered my spine. The fans went wild.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” purred Jimmy, in full leading-man mode, standing front and center on the stage. Clad in black pants with a black button-down shirt, the cuffs rolled back to reveal some of his ink. “Got something special for you tonight.”
Lots of screaming from out in the stadium. I covered my ears, but too late. Holy hell. Inside my belly, the squirmy sensation came again.
Huh.
“Benny-boy, our bass player here, has a little something he’d like to say.”
And I’d been trying so hard not to look at him. My face felt brittle, my eyes hot and hard. He handed over his favorite bass, the Gibson Thunderbird, to a roadie. His gaze strayed over to me as he walked up to the microphone. He knew I was there. Even in the darkness outside the footlights, he saw me.
Jimmy gave his shoulder a squeeze and then stepped back. Ben moved a hand up to cradle the microphone, but his eyes stayed on mine, his face sideways to the crowd. I shouldn’t have come. Sweat poured out of my palms, from within my clenched fists. Far more than the night air could account for.
It would be okay. This was nothing special, surely. Just some weird variation on a rock star good-bye. These guys, they always did things big. Maybe there’d be a sorry-it-allwent-to-shit song just for me. How sweet.
Ben wore the typical black boots, blue jeans, and a faded gray T-shirt with some band name on it. His usual uniform. Man, if only he’d stop staring at me. It was like he held me immobile. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
“Hey,” he said, his voice filling the night air, magnified however many thousand times. Once again the crowd went wild. Some started chanting his name, screaming out I love yous and the like. Who the hell could ever compete with this? The mass adulation. The worship of a crowd of this magnitude. I’d never stood a chance.
“Know there’s been a lot of shit in the papers lately, gossip about my becoming a father.” The long dark hair on top of his head had escaped whatever styling product they’d used. It fell around his face, strands catching on his beard. “I wanted to set things straight tonight.”
More mania from the crowd. General confusion from me. This all could have been done without my presence. Easily. Hell, he could have held a press conference tomorrow, when I’d be on the other side of the country, licking my wounds and rebuilding my life. Why this? My emotions had been through the mill enough already.
I turned to leave but Vaughan caught my arm, halting me.
“Give it one more minute,” he said.
“Oh for f*ck’s sake.” I turned, not so barely holding in my temper. Not even sorry I’d sworn. Fucking Ben f*cking Nicholson. Well he could just f*ck right off, couldn’t he? Yes he f*cking could. Not a single f*cking fire truck needed to be involved in the entire process.
I looked back to find him staring straight back at me, dark eyes searing into me, despite the distance. One f*cking minute, that’s all he had. And I’m pretty damn certain by the set of my lips he knew it too.
“I love you, Lizzy,” he said.
Everything stopped. It was like the world held its breath. I know I did, stunned.
“I was a f*cking idiot not to say it to you sooner.” His hand tightened on the microphone, the lines of tension embedded deep in his face. “Shit was just changing so fast and I … I got scared.”
Talk about making a public statement. Holy hell. The beat of silence dissolved, and the screaming and cat-whistling of the crowd came close to drowning out his words. As for me, I could barely believe my ears.