“Keep your distance,” I sing, “and I’ll bite my tongue for you. Just walk the other way, don’t try to play, I’ll act like I don’t have a clue.”
“That you want me,” we both sing, “there’s a red sky, tonight.” The crowd begins to sing with us. “It may not come with a warning, but you keep me out of sight. You’ll think of me, you’ll reach out, and I’ll never be there for you. You want me, it’s a red sky, but you know I’ll turn it blue.”
As I step back from the mic during Cline’s short solo, the crowd cheers and they’re all moving to the music. Stokes steps toward me, playing the guitar and we exchange a knowing smile. We’ve done it. We’ve got this.
We finish the song with the crowd joining in for the chorus each time, and they cheer so loud at the end; I can’t hear my own thoughts. I turn to the rest of the band, and they all smile, some looking at the crowd, but Royal exchanges a smile with me and nods my way.
I nod back, my face flush at his approval.
Is this how my dad felt? All these people singing his words back to him.
It’s a rush.
The rest of the songs come together, describing a twisted love affair, the fallout of the breakups, and the toxicity of the makeups. Most of the crowd knows most of the words, and they sing the same parts that stir a wide range of emotions within me that I relate to with such passion and volume, the experience is like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
With each song, I move to the music more, interact with the band members more, and we deliver these songs that the fans love so much, one after the other, until we finish the last one on their list.
“It flickers,” I sing.
“It fades,” Stokes sings before the whole band and crowd joins in, “and they’ll never be the same.”
“But it lingers,” I sing, “because,” and Stokes walks up beside me to finish together in my mic, “of you.” I turn to him as the crowd whistles and hollers and he gives me the most charming, big-toothed grin and plays the last few chords.
Royal hits the drums for the last time, signaling the end for us all, and the crowd erupts in applause. I feel their eyes on me, all the people I’ve won over, and they seem to be moving closer to the stage.
“Thanks for comin’ out everybody!” Stokes waves to the crowd and I follow his lead. “Make sure to join us Friday night at Noblemen, and we’ll be back here again on Halloween night to open for Midnight Voices! You’re all great. We love you. Thank you so much!”
He rests the mic back on the stand and nods for me to follow him off stage as Lucie walks off, leading us. The bouncer stands between us and the crowd on the way to the hallway, keeping them at bay as we pass through the door. The cool air hits me, and I can breathe again.
All at once, the noise melts away, our echoes surround us, and the adrenaline buzzes under my skin.
“Wow,” I gasp, smiling and turning to Stokes. “That was amazing.”
“You did great, Lyn. Seriously.” He clasps his hands on my shoulders and squeezes before passing me again. “You’d think you’ve been singing our songs for a long time.”
“Great job,” Royal says, nudging my shoulder with his fist as he passes me and steps into the room.
“That was a good show. I’m kinda surprised,” Lucie says, turning to me right away. “Not because of you. I knew you’d be fine. I just didn’t know how it would go since, you know, after—”
“Hey, the crowd loved it.” Stokes disappears into the green room and stops talking until I walk in. “We wait for it to die down a bit out there and then we join some of our long-time fans for drinks. You cool to join?”
I nod and plunk down on the red couch beside Lucie. Cline returns to his spot at the mirror, still scowling, and examines himself before cracking open a beer.
“Hey,” Stokes says, stepping beside him. “You have to admit, that was great.”
“Yeah” —Cline scratches his chin— “whatever.” He turns to Royal. “We doing this or what?”
“Yeah, man!” Royal grabs a bag from the other side of the couch. “Just picked some up. You smoke?” he asks me.
“Oh, no.”
“Luce, you in?” Cline asks.
She nods and Royal pulls out a baggie of weed. He sets it on the little square table with a few rolling papers.
“Mika should be here soon,” Lucie says. “She wants to have a drink with us.”
“Cool.” Stokes turns to the door as it opens and Jamie walks in with his arms open wide.
Jamie points to Stokes and grabs him, shaking him dramatically and laughing. “You told me you found a good one. I didn’t believe you, but Lyn, can I call you Lyn?” I nod. “You were great. Very different from how Pascha did it, but you have your own—I don’t know—vulnerability to your voice that she didn’t really share. A delicate quality.”
My cheeks flush with heat. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“It’s beautiful.” Lucie nods in agreement.
“You should’ve believed me.” Stokes laughs and sits on the arm of the couch beside me, pressing his arm against mine.
“You in, man?” Royal asks and holds up a freshly rolled joint.
“No.” Jamie stops on the other side of the table in front of me. “Lyn, you’re a real talent. You saved our asses. Your drinks are on me tonight.”
“Oh, thanks.” I stare into my lap to hide my hot cheeks, but I can’t keep the smile from my face.
“Lynda, is it true, your dad was Hugh McGowan?” Jamie finishes the question and I look up at him, smile fading, and nod. “I’ve heard his stuff. I’ve watched him here, actually, back when I first came here from
