Sustain
Page 63
“Stop it. Look at me. Come on. You can do this. Just like before. Trust us.”
He had. He listened to me, followed my instructions, and trusted me.
I looked at my cousin one last time. His eyes were bleak, swinging back and forth between Brute and the gun. It was still pointed at him, but he wasn’t saying anything. There was yelling, either from Elijah or Luke. They were arguing for Emerson’s life. I felt someone tugging on the back of my shirt, but I ignored them.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but I had to do something.
Brute was yelling over my head at someone behind me. His gun was waving in the air, up and down as he kept shouting. A vein was bulging out from his neck. Then I took the last step and moved, so I was standing in front of my cousin.
I took his place.
Breathe, little girl.
It was my mother’s voice in my head. I could hear her again as she whispered into my ear. Plates had been shattered. The kitchen table was flipped upside down. Doors were ripped off their hinges. With each crash and roar coming from the other room, my little fingers had dug into her arm. That was the night he left.
I thought nothing could get worse.
I was staring down the barrel of a gun now.
I’d been wrong.
Then the gun went off.
The crowd was cheering. They’d been chanting ‘Sustain’ for the last fifteen minutes. Our time was up. It was so close for when we’d take the stage, and I couldn’t move. Playing with them for small town gigs or at house parties was one thing, but this stadium filled to capacity was another level. My hands were sweating and shaky. As a drummer, that was embarrassing.
“Hey.” Luke slipped into the room, and the chanting grew louder. It was muffled as he closed the door behind him, but it didn’t matter. I could still hear them. They were in my head.
I leaned forward, rested my elbows on my knees, and hung my head between my legs. I couldn’t believe I was nervous. This—playing for thousands of fans, playing with Luke, with Braden, as a drummer—this was my dream, and I was close to pissing my pants.
Luke sat next to me, and his hand grazed down my back. “You okay?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk. Even the sight of him wasn’t enough to distract me. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that hung over his form, molding against him, it was like the shirt had been created to make him more beautiful. No. Not even the sight of him could distract me. I had tried, through the entire rehearsal. Even afterwards, I pulled him in a back room, but the butterflies were still buzzing in my stomach.
“Hey,” he murmured, drawing me to look up at him. As I did, meeting those grey eyes of his, some of the butterflies settled down. Some kicked up, for another reason, but I couldn’t control how my pulse kept racing. His hand cupped the side of my face, and his thumb caressed my cheek. He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re going to be amazing. I know you are.”
“Easy for you to say.” My lips brushed against his. “You’re already loved by millions. I’m new. They only know me because I kicked their beloved guitarist out of the band.”
He laughed, the sound and air coating against my lips. “They don’t. The true fans know you saved his life. When you stood in front of that gun, Brute hesitated, and the cops were able to shoot him instead. That’s public information.”
I reached for his hand.
He added, “Yes, some social networks are villainizing you, but we can’t do much about that. They’re just mad Emerson isn’t with the band. They blame you. They’re going to say what they want no matter what. We know the truth. The general public knows the truth, and the real fans do, too. They’re out there and they’re excited to meet you. They know you’re Braden’s sister…” He stopped after that, pulling away from me.
I said what he couldn’t, “They don’t know about us, though.”
The corners of his mouth stretched out, flattening his mouth. “Priss Bitch might think she has some control over us, but she’ll soon find out she doesn’t. Don’t worry about it.”
After a phone caught the entire confrontation with Brute on tape, it went public fast. Once we were cleared by a medic team, we were taken to the police station for statements. It was the same ordeal as when they raided Elijah’s house, but there was no interrogation. Everything had been a whirlwind.
That’d only been the beginning.
Wanting to get ahead of the social media storm, since the video was already viral, Priscilla and Peter made a public statement that Emerson was going into a drug rehabilitation program, and yes, the girl on the video clip was Sustain’s new drummer. I was officially introduced in an interview with Becky Walters and the rest of the band.
The public’s response had been mixed. Some loved me, proclaiming I was a hero, and others hated me, blaming me for the entire thing. Even though I could hear only cheering from the stadium, I knew I’d walk out to ‘boos’.
“Hey.” Luke caught my chin again and made me look at him. “I mean it. Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.”
Priscilla hadn’t been happy to find out about me, but she’d been forced to accept my position with the band. Luke, Braden, and Gunn threatened to walk if she didn’t okay it. Even Emerson said he’d make a statement against her. I’d been shocked when I heard about his support. Braden reminisced telling me the story, how Emerson caused a scene in a board meeting about me. I heard the story once a week for the last month, but as Luke said—Priss Bitch was a battle for another day. My first battle, getting my hands steady.
Someone knocked on the door and shouted through it, “Five minutes.”
“You going to be okay?”
No. I smiled at him. “Yes.”
The side of his mouth lifted, and he shook his head, pulling me close to press a kiss to my forehead. “You’re such a liar.” His lips lingered there, and I felt him take a breath. He murmured softly, “I love you. No one will take that away.”
He started to pull away. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. “Promise?”
“Promise.” His eyes were fierce.
Luke had been wonderful during everything. He never left my side, staying with me at night, getting breakfast for us in the mornings, holding my hand whenever I needed the extra strength. The only time he wasn’t allowed to be by my side was when we were in interviews; there’d been a few since the Becky Walters’ interview. Priss Bitch thought the fans needed to find out later on, that there’d been enough changes for them to process. After I used a bathroom at a restaurant and found two girls crying, clutching Emerson’s picture, I agreed with her. Luke hadn’t. He’d fought with her the entire time, only obeying because she threatened to kick me out.
He had. He listened to me, followed my instructions, and trusted me.
I looked at my cousin one last time. His eyes were bleak, swinging back and forth between Brute and the gun. It was still pointed at him, but he wasn’t saying anything. There was yelling, either from Elijah or Luke. They were arguing for Emerson’s life. I felt someone tugging on the back of my shirt, but I ignored them.
I didn’t know what I was doing, but I had to do something.
Brute was yelling over my head at someone behind me. His gun was waving in the air, up and down as he kept shouting. A vein was bulging out from his neck. Then I took the last step and moved, so I was standing in front of my cousin.
I took his place.
Breathe, little girl.
It was my mother’s voice in my head. I could hear her again as she whispered into my ear. Plates had been shattered. The kitchen table was flipped upside down. Doors were ripped off their hinges. With each crash and roar coming from the other room, my little fingers had dug into her arm. That was the night he left.
I thought nothing could get worse.
I was staring down the barrel of a gun now.
I’d been wrong.
Then the gun went off.
The crowd was cheering. They’d been chanting ‘Sustain’ for the last fifteen minutes. Our time was up. It was so close for when we’d take the stage, and I couldn’t move. Playing with them for small town gigs or at house parties was one thing, but this stadium filled to capacity was another level. My hands were sweating and shaky. As a drummer, that was embarrassing.
“Hey.” Luke slipped into the room, and the chanting grew louder. It was muffled as he closed the door behind him, but it didn’t matter. I could still hear them. They were in my head.
I leaned forward, rested my elbows on my knees, and hung my head between my legs. I couldn’t believe I was nervous. This—playing for thousands of fans, playing with Luke, with Braden, as a drummer—this was my dream, and I was close to pissing my pants.
Luke sat next to me, and his hand grazed down my back. “You okay?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t talk. Even the sight of him wasn’t enough to distract me. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that hung over his form, molding against him, it was like the shirt had been created to make him more beautiful. No. Not even the sight of him could distract me. I had tried, through the entire rehearsal. Even afterwards, I pulled him in a back room, but the butterflies were still buzzing in my stomach.
“Hey,” he murmured, drawing me to look up at him. As I did, meeting those grey eyes of his, some of the butterflies settled down. Some kicked up, for another reason, but I couldn’t control how my pulse kept racing. His hand cupped the side of my face, and his thumb caressed my cheek. He leaned down, his forehead resting against mine. “You’re going to be amazing. I know you are.”
“Easy for you to say.” My lips brushed against his. “You’re already loved by millions. I’m new. They only know me because I kicked their beloved guitarist out of the band.”
He laughed, the sound and air coating against my lips. “They don’t. The true fans know you saved his life. When you stood in front of that gun, Brute hesitated, and the cops were able to shoot him instead. That’s public information.”
I reached for his hand.
He added, “Yes, some social networks are villainizing you, but we can’t do much about that. They’re just mad Emerson isn’t with the band. They blame you. They’re going to say what they want no matter what. We know the truth. The general public knows the truth, and the real fans do, too. They’re out there and they’re excited to meet you. They know you’re Braden’s sister…” He stopped after that, pulling away from me.
I said what he couldn’t, “They don’t know about us, though.”
The corners of his mouth stretched out, flattening his mouth. “Priss Bitch might think she has some control over us, but she’ll soon find out she doesn’t. Don’t worry about it.”
After a phone caught the entire confrontation with Brute on tape, it went public fast. Once we were cleared by a medic team, we were taken to the police station for statements. It was the same ordeal as when they raided Elijah’s house, but there was no interrogation. Everything had been a whirlwind.
That’d only been the beginning.
Wanting to get ahead of the social media storm, since the video was already viral, Priscilla and Peter made a public statement that Emerson was going into a drug rehabilitation program, and yes, the girl on the video clip was Sustain’s new drummer. I was officially introduced in an interview with Becky Walters and the rest of the band.
The public’s response had been mixed. Some loved me, proclaiming I was a hero, and others hated me, blaming me for the entire thing. Even though I could hear only cheering from the stadium, I knew I’d walk out to ‘boos’.
“Hey.” Luke caught my chin again and made me look at him. “I mean it. Don’t worry about it. Everything will be fine.”
Priscilla hadn’t been happy to find out about me, but she’d been forced to accept my position with the band. Luke, Braden, and Gunn threatened to walk if she didn’t okay it. Even Emerson said he’d make a statement against her. I’d been shocked when I heard about his support. Braden reminisced telling me the story, how Emerson caused a scene in a board meeting about me. I heard the story once a week for the last month, but as Luke said—Priss Bitch was a battle for another day. My first battle, getting my hands steady.
Someone knocked on the door and shouted through it, “Five minutes.”
“You going to be okay?”
No. I smiled at him. “Yes.”
The side of his mouth lifted, and he shook his head, pulling me close to press a kiss to my forehead. “You’re such a liar.” His lips lingered there, and I felt him take a breath. He murmured softly, “I love you. No one will take that away.”
He started to pull away. I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. “Promise?”
“Promise.” His eyes were fierce.
Luke had been wonderful during everything. He never left my side, staying with me at night, getting breakfast for us in the mornings, holding my hand whenever I needed the extra strength. The only time he wasn’t allowed to be by my side was when we were in interviews; there’d been a few since the Becky Walters’ interview. Priss Bitch thought the fans needed to find out later on, that there’d been enough changes for them to process. After I used a bathroom at a restaurant and found two girls crying, clutching Emerson’s picture, I agreed with her. Luke hadn’t. He’d fought with her the entire time, only obeying because she threatened to kick me out.
