Page 167 of Toxic Wishes
“Is that Adam Levine?” Mel says, letting go of my hands and walking through the suite's sliding doors onto the patio.
“Good evening, I’m back.” The crowd quieted as people saw Adam Levine return to the stage. “That was one hell of a game.” He claps his hand on Colt’s shoulders and asks. “How the hell did you get the player's heads in the game like that again? I for sure thought it was over during those last 6 seconds.”
“My head never left the game. I’m Bolt Colt, so not only am I fast, but I think on my feet, too.”
Adam laughs along with the crowd, and I can’t ignore the warm butterflies swarming in my stomach as Mel nudges my shoulder, seeing my reaction.
“You had me on my toes, that’s for sure,” Adam said
Colt smiled as he looked down and back up, searching the field before his eyes landed on me. As if he was looking for me. I thought my heart was going to stop as I felt my throat close up, making it hard to breathe.
“I’ll leave the questions to the reporters. But for now, I’m ready to give these guys a show.”
“That’s right.” Colt nods.
“Is there anything you want to say before I sing?”
Adam holds the mic up to Colt’s lips, and for the first time, I see something on Colt’s face that I’ve never seen before. Shock? Fear? Guilt? I can’t make out what it is, and I’m sure standing in a crowd of thousands of people with millions watching on television doesn’t help.
“The world doesn’t know this. But, I had a younger brother,” he starts, and I swear my heart beats even faster, if possible. Mel looks at me as if I had something to do with this. I shrugged, pulling my eyebrows together.
“He was eighteen, and he died the year I got drafted into the NFL. The night he died, I won my first NFL game.” He hung his head down low as if that night would forever replay in his memory, hurting just as much as the first time. He lifted his head back up, and it was hard to tell if there were tears in his eyes since they were already bloodshot, and sweat was dripping down his face as if he just got out of a sauna.
“His birthday was November eleventh. Eleven, eleven. Wish time. And I recently discovered that one of his wishes was to perform on stage with his guitar at a Super Bowl I was playing.”
I watch as he swallows so hard I see his Adam's apple bob up and down. “So, in honor of him and my third championship win, I want Adam Levine to play one of the songs he wrote. Toxic Wishes.” he hands the mic back to Adam, and the crowd is silent as if they are genuinely honoring Blake up in the sky. Cliff stands by me.
“Did you know anything about this?”
“No, I didn’t. I-I had no idea.”
Clif slightly jerks his head to the side before saying. “That’s Colt, full of surprises.”
Drums and a band come to life with backdrop lights, and the beat and melody spring into action as Adam brings it all together with the guitar. Tears burn my eyes. Adam starts to sing, and you can feel the energy from the crowd pick up as people start clapping, swaying, and holding up lights in the stadium. And when he finally gets to the chorus, the stadium goes bonkers. Deafening, Adam drops to one knee as he buries himself into the music, his black hair flipping slightly. For a brief second, I can see Blake on stage. His jet-black hair flew as he jolted his hips with the guitar, feeling the music, feeling the pain that went along with the lyrics. A tear slips down my cheeks as I smile wide, and I think Mel squeezes my hand, but I’m mesmerized. I can’t take my eyes off of Adam. I can picture dimples on Blake’s face as he smiles when the crowd goes wild again. When he gets to the second part of the chorus, people are dancing in the stadiums now. I glance over at Cliff, and at first, I think he’s laughing, but when I see him wipe his face, I realize he’s not laughing but crying. Tears streaming down his face as he mutters, “My boy, my boy, my boy, my boy.”
This song no doubt would be hitting the charts soon, and although I was disappointed I wasn’t the one making this happen for Blake, it only gave more recognition for the album, and I would be a fool to think Colt didn’t have a part in this. I watched as he stood in the distance, staring at Adam with his hand behind his back as if he genuinely was saluting to Blake and giving him this moment in time like he wished for all those years ago.
I placed a gentle hand on Cliff’s shoulder, letting him know it was okay to cry and that it was okay to feel the pain and loss, as well as the pride and joy that came with it. Because that’s how I felt, too. They say tears are the silent language of grief and that grief is the language of love. In that case, we’ll never stop grieving the absence of Blake. I look up in the sky and close my eyes, grateful. Because now, whenever this song plays on the radio, it will forever fill the void he left.
55
Colt
“Music can change the world because it can change people.” ? Bono
The hotel room door swung open, and my heart felt like it was shrinking.
“Hi, you must be Mel, I’m Colt.” I held my hand out, but Mel stood with her hand on her hip, leaning on the door a little as the sass rolled off her demeanor.
“Is Abigail here?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She looked ready to go out and party. She was wearing a dressy top that showed off her cleavage, but the top was so small you could see her midriff as she kept her arm raised, keeping the door open. I knew if she was going out, that meant Abigail was, too.
Over my dead body.
“Mel, please,” I hadn’t showered, and I’m sure I reeked of sweat, dirt, and musk all in one, but I didn’t care. I took a step closer. “Is Abigail inside?”
She lets out a long sigh. “No, she left.”