Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(53)

Gray came in on the song and his flawless playing layered over her own. Simon’s whisper-soft voice took up where the verse should go.

As the song built, so did their sound. Jazz brought in the piano accompaniment.

“Again.”

Margo opened her eyes. Nick was at the back of the bowl of seats, his arms crossed as he leaned against the railing that bisected the seats from the lawn.

She rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck. Taking it from the top, she put a little more grit into the song, shuttling her fingers down the neck of the bass.

Gray grinned and spun out the guitar so he matched. Deacon’s bass complemented hers until she felt the sound in the middle of her chest.

But Simon’s voice was the capper. The song was all longing and pain at the start until it built to anger and hopelessness, finally ending in a raging Foo Fighters-like climax. Everyone—including Jazz’s drums—pounding out the loss of the narrator’s last hope until it dialed down to the sad bassline, aching guitar, and her cello’s reverberating tones.

Nick clapped slowly as he walked down the middle aisle and around the sound board. He didn’t even look at Donovan and Lila. His eyes were for the stage.

He climbed the steps and reached for his Gibson. “Again,” he said.

And they did.

Four more times until the song was nailed. Nick didn’t say a damn word. He just moved on to another song.

With methodical calculation, he and Gray broke down guitar parts. Deacon did some rearrangements and she made a few suggestions.

The sun was low on the horizon line when Harper came onstage and demanded for them to eat and rest their throats.

Even without running around the stage, the guys’ sweaty shirts were sticking to them. Jazz had stripped down to a tank and shorts.

Margo had lost her sweater on the third song, glad that she’d worn layers in deference to the temperatures of New York. May could mean cool and windy, or high seventies. And being from New England, she was used to the seasons here.

The California types were a little confused. One minute they wanted to peel off their clothes, the next Jazz was asking for a hoodie.

Margo followed them into the backstage area that Harper had set up with food, a mountain of watermelon, and a table full of drinks.

Margo frowned when everyone went to the table of watermelon first. Simon and Nick mowed through three pieces right at the buffet table before going to the cold cuts and salads.

Lila came up to her with a plate of cubed watermelon.

“Is this an initiation thing?”

Lila laughed. “No. It’s a Harper thing.”

She took the plate and popped one in her mouth. The sweet, juicy flavor flooded her tongue. Wasn’t a bad way to start off lunch.

“Cures dehydration,” Jazz said as she walked by with a bowl of melon and a plate of macaroni salad and two turkey sandwiches.

“Is that right?”

“Harper’s a genius when it comes to taking care of the band’s dietary needs.” Lila selected a blush red cube and took an elegant bite. “How’s it feel?”

“How does it sound?”

“You already know that, Margo.”

“It sounds like nothing that’s out there right now.”

Lila nodded. “In a good way.”

She chewed thoughtfully. “I think so. It’s not different enough to make people scratch their heads.”

“Good. I knew it was going to work.” Lila lowered her voice. “Nick just needed to hear it for himself.”

Her gaze found Simon at the edge of the group. She frowned. He was usually in the center of things. He drank a bottle of water between sandwiches and as soon as he’d cleared his plate, he thumbed off a candy or mint from a roll in his pocket.

Unsure if she should ask him if his throat was too raw, she stayed seated next to Jazz and Lila. Harper had finally joined the table to plow through her own plate of food.

Donovan came into the eating area. He held up his hand when Deacon started to stand. “Don’t mind me. I just wanted to let you know how amazing I think you’re sounding. These rehearsals were just what you needed to tighten up a few of the songs. Lila and I want you guys happy on this tour.”

“We’re getting an opener, aren’t we?” Simon asked.

“I’m glad you mentioned it.” Donovan dipped his hand into his pocket and checked his phone once before he settled it back without replying. “I’ve lined up two bands. One will follow you from the East Coast until Texas. About four weeks, I’d say.”

Nick pushed his plate away and crossed his arms on the table. “Better not be a douche.”

“These ladies are not.”

“Ladies?” Nick’s head tipped back. “God.”

“Have a little faith, Nick.” Donovan opened his arms beseechingly. “I want this tour to be a success, remember?”

Deacon laughed. “You’re going to say Brooklyn Dawn.”

“Right in one.” Donovan tucked his hands into his pockets. “Jamie and Lindsey are rising stars. They’re at the end of their run with their first album, but I want them to have some summer exposure. I think you’re a good fit for each other. Definitely a similar sound.”

Simon gave a thumbs up. “I’m down with some girls on tour.”