Back in her room, Nell put on the security shirt, then extracted the Bee Cute shorts from their bag and stepped into them. Chose running shoes in case she actually needed to take protective action. Nodded to herself. The combination said more than — more than just a fighter, more than just a girlfriend. The shorts were a bit much, but maybe over-the-top was necessary for a rock festival, and she could live with a disco ball butt for one afternoon.
Angel and Blade and Dice and Rhys were whisked away to sound check by a limousine. Nell, with artfully tousled loose hair and what felt like a face full of glitter — Sally had added some kind of sparkly gel to her eyelids and cheekbones — was sent to wait in the passenger seat of an unmarked cargo van, where she waited for her man. He needed to be at sound check, but without anyone catching on, so they were planning to slip him in. Someone named Phil waited in the driver’s seat.
Then the cargo door opened at the back and Easy got in and sat down among the equipment. He was definitely Easy in that moment — something beyond the Eamonn Yarrow she knew — in full rock-star mode, kitted out with rings and gelled-up hair and a little bit of eyeliner for the stage, his black eye muted with concealer. “Let’s go. I want to see what kind of piano they’ve got for me, and I’m hoping to have time to play a little so I can get used to it.”
Easy stood with Nell and Sally and Crys, just out of sight backstage as Angel walked out to greet the crowd, followed by Blade, Dice, and Rhys. “It feels funny watching from back here,” he said in Nell’s ear. “I should be out there.”
“It’s only two songs,” she reminded him. The piano waited for him, and “Star Shot Down” was the third song on their set list. Gary, the bass tech, stood by with his blue Warwick Corvette, ready to bring it out for him to play “My Tainted Baby” after that.
Angel thanked the audience for coming to see them and acknowledged the tragedy that had befallen Gumdrop Conspiracy, but promised they were in for a huge treat. Word had already spread about the Bad Luck Opals’ arrival, and connections had been made, so a thunderous cheer rippled over the crowd. The first song raced by, and the second.
Then it was time. Easy slipped on the extra-large black hoodie Sally held ready for him, big enough to drape forward and hide his face. “Go,” she said.
He turned to give Nell a quick kiss. “I love you,” she blurted out, without quite meaning to.
“Fuck me.” The dazzling delight on his face was a gift.
“Go!” said Sally again. “That shit can wait.”
Easy strode out onto the stage, head down to keep his face hidden, but joy vibrating in every line of him — a man who could make magic, walk on water, touch the sky.
And the familiar opening notes of “Star Shot Down” sounded new and extraordinary with a keyboard in the mix.
The transition happened every bit as smoothly as they’d hoped. On the last verse, Easy raised his head and shook his hood back, and a spotlight came up to highlight his instantly recognizable face and blond hair. A collective gasp and then screams and shouts reacted to the revelation. And when the song came to an end, Easy got up and approached Rhys. The two bassists shook hands, making it clear to everyone that there were no plots or hard feelings going on.
Angel came over and handed his microphone to Rhys, who said, “It has been an honor and a privilege to play with Smidge, it really has. But my first love is acting and I’ve got a big chance I have to take, so I’m handing the role of bass player back to the man it belongs to, and I’m hoping you’ll all come see me on the big screen sometime not too far in the future.”
“Thanks for everything, Risk,” Angel said. “And welcome back to Smidge, Easy!” Gary ran out to hand Easy his blue bass and plug him in.
The rest of the set was electric, beautiful, charged with an extra energy that had even the crew listening afresh and opening their eyes in wonder at what they’d been missing, or maybe something they’d never heard before, because Easy was on fire with something that had never lit him up before.
When the Bad Luck Opals emerged onto the stage for their set, shaking hands and high-fiving Smidge as they transitioned off for a break, the crowd burst into an extra-loud roar of applause and approval. And in all that thunder, Easy forged his way off the stage ahead of the others, straight to Nell, where he swept her into his arms and kissed her.
It was glory unlike anything she’d felt before, an electric storm. “Did you mean it?” he gasped, coming up for air.
I love you. She’d said it. She meant it. “Yeah. I kind of realized it last night. Needed to find the right moment to say it. I don’t want to live my life without commitment, even if it feels safer that way, so… I’m letting myself love you. I’m all in.”
He looked dazed at that, kissed her again, her neck, her hair. “Nella-bella, my lovely ninja woman, you have no idea. I’ve given a lot of love away in my life and never had it returned until now. I love you with every bit of my being, and I’m shaking at the thought that you could feel even a little bit of the same for me.”
It was overwhelming, and at the same time so lovely to be cared for with such passion, not just of the body but of the heart. She wanted to feel it with all of her,
