Sustain
Page 16
The drive wasn’t long to get to her house, and from what I remembered about Candy Lake, I wasn’t surprised to see the mansion and guest house sitting on the beach, surrounded by trees. Luke drove right up to a stage that was perched in front of the house, facing the ocean. He took off, and the rest of us started to unpack the equipment. No one spoke, which surprised me, but I was grateful at the same time. Emerson still seemed pissed, and Braden kept stopping to check out every girl that walked by us.
Candy Lake was the popular girl in high school. Luke and Braden had been popular, too, but they never cared or worked for it. People just liked them, and lucky for me, they were content to hang out with me. The popular girls and I never mixed well. They talked about things that didn’t interest me—fashion, boyfriends, and gossip—and I only wanted to play drums. Growing up as a tomboy, I was the most comfortable hanging out with my brother and his friends.
“Are we ready to go?”
Luke had come back. He hoisted himself onto the stage in one fluid movement. The athleticism shouldn’t have been impressive, it was one leap, but it took my breath away. He looked like a damn cat. That had been another thing about Luke. He was gorgeous, dark, mysterious, and athletic. He could’ve played sports, been worshiped for just that feat, but he only cared about music and…I swallowed tightly…me.
“Bri!” Braden yelled in front of me.
“What?” I jerked back. As I glanced around, they were all looking right at me, and my cheeks instantly reddened. “You guys were talking?”
Emerson cursed and bent back over his guitar, tuning it.
“So, you’re ready?” Braden stepped in front of me and took my shoulders in his hands. “I know it’s your first time with us in front of a crowd, but you can do it. You’re a natural. Our practice set was amazing. We didn’t have too many hiccups.”
“Emerson hadn’t been there.”
My brother let go of my shoulders, stepping away. “He plays the same as Gunn, better. Em will be fine. We’re good to go.” He cursed then. “Maybe you’re right. Luke, you think we should do a practice set?”
Luke adjusted the microphone stand, his eyes shifted to me. “Yeah. It wouldn’t hurt.”
“Good.” Braden clapped his hands together and moved to pick up his guitar. “Let’s do this shit. We’re going to be awesome.”
Emerson grunted, rolling his eyes. “Are you on something? If you are, not fair. Share it, cousin.” He opened his lips, showing his teeth for a second. “Anything would help to get us through this.”
He wasn’t talking about the gig. He was referencing me. I got the insult immediately. My eyes narrowed to slits, and without realizing what I was doing, I surged for him. Enough was enough, but Luke stepped right in front of me. He caught me and held me back, throwing over his shoulder to Emerson, “Could you stop? It’s getting old, and I’m likely to kick you to the curb instead.” One of his hands rested on my hip, and I went still at the touch, feeling burned from the slightest pressure.
I wasn’t paying attention to what Emerson replied. I sucked in my breath and closed my eyes. I never thought he would touch me again, not even a hug, not how he used to throw his arm around my shoulders, or not how he would play with my hands when we were bored.
Then his hand dropped, and he turned, glancing down at me. “You okay with that?”
Hearing the gruffness in his voice, my eyes rose to his. I could only nod in response. He went back to the microphone, keeping his back to me, but it was there. I had felt it again. It stung me. The old connection was still between us. Knowing it was there and feeling it for a moment, had my body wired.
I climbed to my seat and picked up my sticks. I was ready to go.
The sticks twirled on my palm, and I held them like that, letting them spin in the air. The song had paused. They were waiting for me, but I still let those sticks go. This was my time to shine. Forget Emerson. This was about music—our music. I was the best, and he was going to be reminded of it. No matter what shit he said about me, he’d keep his mouth shut about this. Drumming was what I did best, and this felt so right. I let the anticipation build. The crowd was waiting. Everyone was waiting. My body was writhing with the tempo. The beat poured through my blood, but I savored it, still holding off, and then, it was time. Everything clicked. The song was perfect now, and I flicked the right stick up with my finger, caught it with my thumb, and slammed it down at the same time.
I didn’t hear the crowd.
I knew their mouths were open. Their arms were flailing, but it wasn’t about them. They were nothing to me. It was about the music. My leg tapped on the bass, and I glanced up, knowing Braden would mold his chord with my beat. He sensed me and instinctually turned. His head bent further down as his fingers played over the strings. He was doing it. There was no contact between us except the music.
Then Emerson joined, and he held his note. My beat continued, pulsating out. It infected everyone. No one was immune, and we raised the climax all the way up.
This was what we did.
This was how we played.
We were a team.
Braden added to the drama, his guitar hitting the higher notes, and Emerson helped build up the tension. We were waiting, all three of us now. We needed one more to join—voice.
Luke was at the front of the stage. His back was turned. His head was bent, and he held the microphone. He was feeling everything, letting the song continue and build. When we were at the right spot, the perfect moment, his head bobbed, and he started to sing.
His voice was clear and smooth. He started with that first note, and the crowd’s energy spiked. I still couldn’t hear them. I closed my eyes and gave over to the music.
I bled into the beat.
We never stopped because I wouldn’t let them. There was a moment’s pause—a brief moment—and at the signal, the next song was launched. We ran the entire set. One perfect unit. I rolled the beat through, matching the adrenaline in my body. It was going to be like this every night now. Knowing that, I relished the feeling, anticipating this ride from now on.
As Luke belted out the words and Emerson switched the bass, Braden hit that haunting note.
This was when the crowd felt us. If they hadn’t by then, it was this moment when a renewed fever spread through them. My blood was buzzing, knowing we held them by the balls. We decided how they felt. We had control like gods. My arms crashed down with more force, and I gritted my teeth, going with the roller coaster inside me.
Candy Lake was the popular girl in high school. Luke and Braden had been popular, too, but they never cared or worked for it. People just liked them, and lucky for me, they were content to hang out with me. The popular girls and I never mixed well. They talked about things that didn’t interest me—fashion, boyfriends, and gossip—and I only wanted to play drums. Growing up as a tomboy, I was the most comfortable hanging out with my brother and his friends.
“Are we ready to go?”
Luke had come back. He hoisted himself onto the stage in one fluid movement. The athleticism shouldn’t have been impressive, it was one leap, but it took my breath away. He looked like a damn cat. That had been another thing about Luke. He was gorgeous, dark, mysterious, and athletic. He could’ve played sports, been worshiped for just that feat, but he only cared about music and…I swallowed tightly…me.
“Bri!” Braden yelled in front of me.
“What?” I jerked back. As I glanced around, they were all looking right at me, and my cheeks instantly reddened. “You guys were talking?”
Emerson cursed and bent back over his guitar, tuning it.
“So, you’re ready?” Braden stepped in front of me and took my shoulders in his hands. “I know it’s your first time with us in front of a crowd, but you can do it. You’re a natural. Our practice set was amazing. We didn’t have too many hiccups.”
“Emerson hadn’t been there.”
My brother let go of my shoulders, stepping away. “He plays the same as Gunn, better. Em will be fine. We’re good to go.” He cursed then. “Maybe you’re right. Luke, you think we should do a practice set?”
Luke adjusted the microphone stand, his eyes shifted to me. “Yeah. It wouldn’t hurt.”
“Good.” Braden clapped his hands together and moved to pick up his guitar. “Let’s do this shit. We’re going to be awesome.”
Emerson grunted, rolling his eyes. “Are you on something? If you are, not fair. Share it, cousin.” He opened his lips, showing his teeth for a second. “Anything would help to get us through this.”
He wasn’t talking about the gig. He was referencing me. I got the insult immediately. My eyes narrowed to slits, and without realizing what I was doing, I surged for him. Enough was enough, but Luke stepped right in front of me. He caught me and held me back, throwing over his shoulder to Emerson, “Could you stop? It’s getting old, and I’m likely to kick you to the curb instead.” One of his hands rested on my hip, and I went still at the touch, feeling burned from the slightest pressure.
I wasn’t paying attention to what Emerson replied. I sucked in my breath and closed my eyes. I never thought he would touch me again, not even a hug, not how he used to throw his arm around my shoulders, or not how he would play with my hands when we were bored.
Then his hand dropped, and he turned, glancing down at me. “You okay with that?”
Hearing the gruffness in his voice, my eyes rose to his. I could only nod in response. He went back to the microphone, keeping his back to me, but it was there. I had felt it again. It stung me. The old connection was still between us. Knowing it was there and feeling it for a moment, had my body wired.
I climbed to my seat and picked up my sticks. I was ready to go.
The sticks twirled on my palm, and I held them like that, letting them spin in the air. The song had paused. They were waiting for me, but I still let those sticks go. This was my time to shine. Forget Emerson. This was about music—our music. I was the best, and he was going to be reminded of it. No matter what shit he said about me, he’d keep his mouth shut about this. Drumming was what I did best, and this felt so right. I let the anticipation build. The crowd was waiting. Everyone was waiting. My body was writhing with the tempo. The beat poured through my blood, but I savored it, still holding off, and then, it was time. Everything clicked. The song was perfect now, and I flicked the right stick up with my finger, caught it with my thumb, and slammed it down at the same time.
I didn’t hear the crowd.
I knew their mouths were open. Their arms were flailing, but it wasn’t about them. They were nothing to me. It was about the music. My leg tapped on the bass, and I glanced up, knowing Braden would mold his chord with my beat. He sensed me and instinctually turned. His head bent further down as his fingers played over the strings. He was doing it. There was no contact between us except the music.
Then Emerson joined, and he held his note. My beat continued, pulsating out. It infected everyone. No one was immune, and we raised the climax all the way up.
This was what we did.
This was how we played.
We were a team.
Braden added to the drama, his guitar hitting the higher notes, and Emerson helped build up the tension. We were waiting, all three of us now. We needed one more to join—voice.
Luke was at the front of the stage. His back was turned. His head was bent, and he held the microphone. He was feeling everything, letting the song continue and build. When we were at the right spot, the perfect moment, his head bobbed, and he started to sing.
His voice was clear and smooth. He started with that first note, and the crowd’s energy spiked. I still couldn’t hear them. I closed my eyes and gave over to the music.
I bled into the beat.
We never stopped because I wouldn’t let them. There was a moment’s pause—a brief moment—and at the signal, the next song was launched. We ran the entire set. One perfect unit. I rolled the beat through, matching the adrenaline in my body. It was going to be like this every night now. Knowing that, I relished the feeling, anticipating this ride from now on.
As Luke belted out the words and Emerson switched the bass, Braden hit that haunting note.
This was when the crowd felt us. If they hadn’t by then, it was this moment when a renewed fever spread through them. My blood was buzzing, knowing we held them by the balls. We decided how they felt. We had control like gods. My arms crashed down with more force, and I gritted my teeth, going with the roller coaster inside me.
