Rhythm by Marie Lipscomb

Chapter Eighteen

Beth

“This was a mistake.” Beth tugs at the hem of the tight black leather mini-dress. “Big mistake.”

The line ahead of them has barely moved since they joined it, and a voice in the back of her mind tells her to give up and go home. It’s a ridiculous idea. She’s been standing, shivering opposite the same office window for half an hour. The group of teenagers in front of them in the line chatter excitedly about the show, talking about their favorite songs, and which member of the band is superior to the others.

“Oh shush. You’re hot,” Sadie shivers beside her. Her eyes, made stunning by the expertly-applied smokey eyeshadow and winged liner, scan the line to get into the venue, as she bunches up her bare shoulders and wraps her arms around her black corseted waist. Sadie looks incredible. “He’s going to dive off the stage, scoop you up in his arms and ravage you.”

She dismisses Sadie with an exasperated shake of her head. “Stop.” She tugs down the dress again and wraps her arms around herself.

Back in the apartment, Beth felt sexy. The dress showed off her figure perfectly, accentuating the curve of her hips and waist, but out here she feels underdressed, exposed.

Still, Sadie did a great job with her makeup; sleek eyeliner, and dark matte red lips, every bit the vampiric seductress.

But she’s not there to seduce. In fact, now she’s there, she can’t think of a single damn reason to go through with it. All she can think about is how desperate she looks. “I’m not talking about the dress. This whole thing is a bad idea.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“He sees me in the audience, thinks I’m stalking him, has me thrown out, finds out about the painting, files for a restraining order and I make exactly zero dollars for the charity.”

Sadie blinks rapidly. “But the best case is that he sees you, realizes he was a dipshit for letting you go, and takes you backstage for an hour or two, and we meet up later when you’re walking funny.”

Beth gives a weak chuckle as the teenagers in front stop talking and grimace over their shoulders at the pair.

“The more likely scenario,” Sadie continues, undaunted by their audience. “Is that he doesn’t even see you, you realize it was just a one-night stand, he acted like an asshole, and you can finally move on.”

“You’re right.” Beth bows her head in defeat, though her tone is dismissive. “He was an asshole. I see it now. I’ve seen the light. You saved me. My savior.” She rolls her eyes “So, let’s just go home.”

As if in response, the people ahead shuffle forward. Sadie threads her arm through the crook of Beth’s elbow and drags her forward as the line snakes into the venue.

“You’re so full of it. We’re going in,” Sadie smirks. “I’ll buy you an over-priced wine, and we can stand at the back and talk shit about him, but we’re doing this. You can’t wonder about him forever.”

Beth opens her mouth to protest, but as they approach the red-brick building, and the name Vixen’s Wail glows on the display above the door, her throat clenches shut.

Somewhere, deep within the building is a rhythm; a slow, steady, pounding beat. Drums. Her heart slams against her ribs in response.

She barely notices Sadie handing their tickets to the security guy on the door, barely registers when she hands him her I.D. and he secures a blue paper band around her wrist. They walk inside, and are immediately engulfed by a sea of excited fans. The theatricality of the audience is stunning. There are vampires and undertakers, ghostly brides and leather-clad phantoms, and countless people wearing Vixen’s Wail shirts. The constant drone of low chatter joins the beat as they pass by the merch stall and into the vast dimly-lit hall.

The venue is already half-full. The stage at the far end is cloaked in shadow, but blue lights cast dusky twilight illumination over the audience. The heady scent of warm bodies, and the sharp tang of spilled beer cloys Beth’s breaths. She scans the stage squinting at the blackness beyond the drums, but whoever is playing is completely obscured from her view.

The heat in the rapidly filling venue makes her lightheaded.

“If you don’t answer me, I’m just getting you something really gross,” Sadie all but yells into her ear, tightening her already vice-like grip around Beth’s hand.

Beth whips around, eyes wide. “What?”

“Drink,” Sadie calls over the noise. “What would you like to drink?”

More and more people are spilling through the doors. The stifling air grows heavier as though waiting for thunder to break the pressure. A group of women in their early twenties hurry past, unfolding a banner emblazoned with scarlet lettering: “We love you, Finn!”

Beth’s breath catches. In this packed room, there must be close to a thousand people, and among them, so many who want him, and wouldn’t pass up the chance for one passionate night with him. No wonder he cast her aside so effortlessly. He could take his pick of so many.

The whole time she’s pined for him, deliberated reaching out to him, even painted him, she doubts he even thought of her. How naïve she has been to fall for a rock star.

Her jaw sets in determination. Tonight, she’ll bid him goodbye. It’s the last time she’ll ever think of him.

She almost convinces herself.

“Wine.” Her heart skips as the soundcheck ends. “Red. Absolutely enormous.”

Finn

“This is it.”Finn holds on to Mia and Jordan’s hands as the band stands in a circle, heads bowed. “This night changes everything. Our first sold out gig, our biggest venue.”

He tightens his grip on Jordan’s shaking hand and gives her a reassuring squeeze. She forces out a slow breath, pursing her lips as she aims it down. In response, Mia runs on the spot and raises her crimson-lensed eyes to the ceiling. The towering height of her shoes doesn’t restrict the rapid pounding of her feet.

While the rest of his band get energized, Finn’s heart beats steady. Beyond the stage doors, the distant racket of the audience is an oncoming storm, but he’s weathered his fair share.

“Let’s give them a show,” Nic whispers, kohl-lined eyes screwed tight.

“Let’s change their lives,” Mia grins.

The circle breaks and they take up their instruments. Finn waits in the wings, sticks in hand. He’ll be the first on stage, the vanguard, setting the rhythm for his bandmates to follow.

Beyond the stage, the audience cheers; a sign that the lights have dimmed, ready for his entrance. He pulls in a breath, balls his fists, and closes his eyes.

What if she is out there?

Stop. She isn’t. Get over it.

He opens his eyes, shakes away any thought of Beth, and strides out onto the darkened stage, to the earth-shattering cheer of the people who love him.