Page 22 of Filthy Rock Stars
Anxiety crawls up my spine. I impressed two members of the band with my proficiency, and I didn’t screw up their new song, but somehow, I’m not giving them what they want.
What would Solo do in a situation like this? Something bold and surprising. He’d erupt in a keyboard solo during the middle of the song, probably, or break out with backup vocals that made everyone swoon.
But no matter how good it feels when I’m with him, the truth is I’m not Solo. And I just don’t think I have something like that in me.
“Yo! Nico! You made it.”
The voice calls out from the back of the auditorium, and when I turn, I see Fox strolling in. Owen’s fiancé and I are only casual acquaintances, but seeing someone I know is like being thrown a lifeline.
Mare sticks a hand on her hip. “Wait a second. You’re Fox’s friend! Why didn’t you say something?”
“Oh. Sorry. Should I have?”
“Hold up.” Star stands up straight. “You’re the guy with the space opera?”
My mouth goes dry. “Fox told you about that?”
Fox tosses his leather jacket on the stage, then hops up after it. “Sure. It’s your claim to fame, man.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”
“Do you have any music with you?” Mare asks.
“No, sorry.” Everyone’s looking at me, and they all want to hear my weird songs. I can’t tell if this is a nightmare or a dream come true.
“Play a little,” Fox offers. “I’m sure the band can jump in.”
I crack my knuckles, my heart pounding and sweat dripping down my neck. “Sure. Okay. I’ll just play a little.”
The auditorium is colossal and impossibly quiet, and when I press my fingers to the keyboard, the attention swallows me up. Instinctively, I close my eyes and try to let the song flow through me.
I choose a simple one, a quiet, lullaby of a song that’s set among distant space stations and the empty expanses of the universe. The melody builds as my fingers glide across the keys, and a gentle drum and guitar solo join in.
It’s magic. I don’t know how the band does it, but they find their way into the song and match me effortlessly. I sway, this way of moving my body that I do when I’m really connected to the music, eyes closed and head lolling as my hands dance.
My music has never sounded so good.
I’m nearly bouncing back and forth as the melody takes on a life of its own, and the experience is so thrilling, I rise up on my toes.
My foot catches on a sound cord, and right as Case nails the cymbal, I stumble to the hard floor, my keyboard crashing down beside me.
“Shit!” I grab my elbow, wincing, although the humiliation is way worse than the physical pain. Instantly, Mare is kneeling beside me and offering me her hand.
Amazing work, self. Really stellar job here.
“You okay, Nico?”
“I am so, so sorry,” I say, scrambling to my feet. “I got lost in the song or something. It’s just never sounded like that before, and I sway sometimes when I’m playing, and—”
“Hey,” she interrupts with a kind laugh. “It’s okay.”
“Yeah,” Star adds. “You look good dancing behind that keyboard.”
“And that melody is fucking killer,” Case adds.
I’m flushed and overwhelmed, and holy shit, the biggest rock band in the world likes my music.
“Thanks,” I manage.