unREASONable by Arya Matthews
Track 36
Alexandra
Even though The Label hasn’t announced anything solid about my participation in the festival, the world knows.
It’s nothing but rumors on social media about a guest performer joining Project Viper, but they’re enough to rattle me. I need to learn to deal with this. If by some miracle I manage the festival, I may be staying with the guys for a long time. Things are rocky at the moment, but I’m trying to find a way to stop wreaking havoc on the band. They’re still the best chance at a comfortable life I’ve got. Perceptive Zach, unshakable Graham, dependable Shane, thoroughly confused CJ, and…Marshall.
CJ and Marshall will be the death of me.
I avoid all Vipers outside of rehearsals after CJ kisses me. I still can’t believe he’d do that to me. Did he think I wouldn’t figure out what he was up to? Kissing me in front of Marshall. He’s never tried to get close to me like that before, so the moment that dazzling smile came out, I knew he was up to something.
CJ doesn’t want me. Then the only reason he kissed me was to prove some point. That’s why I kissed him back. It’s been beyond awkward to pretend like his kiss didn’t affect me. It did. Foolishly, I hoped for more of a reaction from Marshall, but he said nothing. That part, his indifference, knowing that he doesn’t care for me after all? That hurts. Hope dies last, and I’ve been hoping against all odds that I’d figure him out. It breaks my heart. Almost as much as the festival.
Not the event itself, but its date. Nineteenth of March. It’s a bad day. The worst day. The anniversary of my parents’ death. I’d very much like to spend the day mourning and crying and trying to convince myself that I need to move on, that I have a life ahead of me, that I will have a family again. But, of course, there’s no rescheduling of our performance when everyone in Project Viper is well and the event organizers themselves aren’t experiencing any significant problems.
On the morning of the festival, I wake up earlier than usual thanks to Elise texting me image after image of clothes she’s bringing for me to wear on stage. We already talked about this, but I guess I wasn’t decisive or convincing enough. Meanwhile, I pull on a pair of jeans, my Project Viper T-shirt that I brought with me from Russia, and a blue zip-up hoodie. The T-shirt is old, and the ink is all faded, but it feels appropriate somehow to wear it today. For good luck maybe.
A familiar queasy feeling starts brewing in my stomach, but I grab some headphones and summon all of my strength. No matter how scared I am, I won’t let the Vipers down.
Headphones on, I leave the house. I need music, vicious and deafening, to stifle my old grief and new panic and to strengthen my motivation.
Approaching the Nest, my feet slow down with every step. What are the guys like on serious gig days? Are they nervous too? Will I add to their stress with my own black mood?
The sun disappears behind a thick mass of clouds, and a chill wind teases several hair strands out of my high ponytail. Music pounds in my ears, setting my heart ablaze, warming my blood despite the cold.
The garage door slides open, startling me. Tapping a set of drumsticks against his thigh, Graham walks out and takes a long look at me before saying, “There’s still time to eat breakfast. Zach and Shane are checking the gear one last time.”
“I’m fine.”
He comes closer. “Nervous?”
I’m uncertain as to why he’s talking to me. Graham’s never unfriendly. He just doesn’t talk much in general.
“Yes.” I stuff my hands in my hoodie pockets.
Graham looks up at the darkening sky. “I have horrid stage fright.”
I stare at him in shock. “How do you manage to perform?”
He shrugs. “I can only do it because I don’t have to be on the front lines. Once I’m behind the drums, they drown out everything else, and the fear melts away.”
I can understand that. If only I didn’t have to be on the front lines too.
As though sensing my apprehension, Graham says, “You managed to hold your ground with Marshall. What’s a few thousand people compared to him?”
His comment coaxes a smile out of me, which fades the moment I remember that Graham hasn’t told me yet if I’m good enough to stay with the band. It’s so easy to relax in his presence because he’s so calm and quiet, which presents a danger of becoming complacent around him.
“What do you think?” I say. There’s no time left to mince words or worry about being too blunt. “Can I do this?”
Graham keeps tapping the sticks against his leg. “Do you really care for my opinion?”
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
He shakes his head. “I mean, do you really need my approval?”
“Yes! Everyone in the band has to agree to me staying—” The drumsticks land on the top of my skull. The hit doesn’t hurt but definitely causes me to stop talking.
“You give too much power to us and not enough to yourself. Do you want to stay? You said it yourself. Everyone in the band has to agree.” He runs his hand over my hair once. “Sorry. And stay. You’re a better musician than any of us were, except Zach, when we started this thing.”
Four out of five. I could shout from joy and relief, and I would if it were five out of five.
Speaking of which, Marshall appears in the garage, hands full of bags with gear and my bass. He sets it upright in front of me. “Morning.”
“Morning.” I hold the bass close and take his gaze straight on.
It’s been a torture to pretend like I don’t care about him anymore. No matter what I do, no matter how many times I remind myself he’s nothing but pain, my feelings for him won’t go away. If only I could talk to my mama about it.
Thinking of mama brings a dangerous sting to my eyes.
“Nervous?” Marshall asks.
Is it written on my face? I’d better get a grip before the show starts. Even if my knees quake, even if I want to puke, our listeners can never know that. They’re paying for a fun performance, not seeing a green musician faint on stage. Besides, I’ve already decided I’m not going to let Project Viper down, so I’m not going to faint. “I’ll be fine.”
The minibus arrives, towing a small trailer. Kiera emerges from the vehicle and waves at us with a bright smile on her face. When she’s next to us, she hugs me. “Think you’ll be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say again and push a little more conviction into my tone.
“Alexandra Dmitrievna,” CJ calls out to me with a polite version of my name as he comes out of the house. “You are not going anywhere until you eat.”
“Good idea.” Kiera pats him on the shoulder when CJ approaches us carrying a bowl and a tall, lidded tumbler with a flexible straw. The bowl contains scrambled eggs, cheese, bell peppers, and ham, and I suspect it’s a protein shake in the tumbler.
My stomach protests at the sight of food, but CJ’s unbending.
“Don’t give me that look. You’re eating or staying here. What if you pass out during our block?”
Grabbing the food, I glance at Marshall. Not for support, just out of some odd habit.
He grins. “Better get going.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I grumble and climb into the minibus.
I use up our entire drive to munch and sip through my breakfast. It serves as a nice distraction, actually, until we park in an underground parking structure. This is it. My fingers tremble and tingle as I try to undo the seatbelt.
One of the venue employees leads us to the changing rooms. I zombie-shuffle at the tail of the group, right behind Graham, and cling to our conversation and my earlier resolution to not chicken out. It doesn’t work. There’s little besides my drumming heartbeat that I can feel and think of.
Breathe.
No fear.
I’m going to be fine.
I grab Graham’s hand, needing to hold onto something before my feet stop and reverse their direction. Graham squeezes my fingers and continues walking. I’m so grateful for his silent support.
The place smells like dust, dried up beer, sweat, and memories of past events. Kiera’s matter-of-fact chatter cuts through my haze here and there, but the rest of the sounds are fuzzy. My hands grow clammy, but I don’t dare to release Graham’s hand. We take an elevator for a short ride, a level or two. Then we walk down a long, bare concrete hallway and into a similarly decorated room with a rack of hangers, portable mirrors, a dressing screen, and several chairs.
The support team isn’t here yet, so we dump our things and grab our badges. Zach snatches a can of ginger ale from a small table stocked with snacks, then we head to oversee our gear setup and for a turn at the soundcheck. CJ carries my bass since officially he’s still the Vipers’ bassist. He’ll participate in the soundcheck, and I get to watch from the sidelines. Thank goodness. He knows my setting preferences, and I don’t want to flop while so many other musicians are watching. Not that I want to flop during the real deal performance either, but logic isn’t my best friend at the moment.
Hood over my head, I stick to Graham once more as we approach the stage. Air freezes in my lungs and I stop, my eyes failing to take it all in. A different band is already having a go with their sound. Guitars shriek and lights strobe. I might have heard the song before. I hope for a few more seconds of music, but it cuts off abruptly, and the guitarist announces through the mic that he likes the sound.
I’ve seen plenty of what happens in the background life of a band, but this is different. There’s quite the crowd in front of the stage. Fellow musicians chatter, bursts of laughter pop here and there. All of these people know each other. Once again, I’m an intruder, so I stuff my badge inside my hoodie before anyone sees it.
“Hey.” Marshall comes back for me. He lowers my hood and fishes out my badge. His fingers linger on the rectangle of plastic for a few long seconds. Then he gives me a soft smile. “Don’t fall behind.”
I won’t. I’ll keep pace.
We join the rest of the Vipers in front of the stage, but I inch my way to Kiera, who stands a few steps behind them, texting. The guys wait their turn with their feet set firmly on the ground, arms crossed on their chests. Confident, irresistible, and awesome. Doing my best to be covert, probably unsuccessfully, I keep looking around. Project Viper stands in a bubble of space. Others are whispering around them, throwing a mix of curious and envious looks and paying no attention to me. Good.
While one of the bands leaves the stage and another takes their place, a slender young woman with a short, blonde ponytail and red bangs passes me from behind. “Hey, Viper Beat,” she calls out as she heads for Graham.
At lightning speed, he whips around and pulls out his drumsticks from his shorts pocket. Wood clanks as the two exchange a couple of blows like they’re fencing. Both laugh then clap their hands in a tight handshake.
“Well, well, well. If it ain’t everyone’s favorite snakes.” Another newcomer appears by my side, a guy who’s almost as tall as Zach. Dark hair, blazing orange highlights, black jacket, and guitar case straps hugging both of his shoulders. Recognition turns on a light bulb in my mind. He’s from Acid Churro Dreams, the band that opened for the Vipers when I first saw them live. The girl who sparred with Graham is their drummer.
Another guy joins us and stands right in front of me. ACD’s singer. He’s a couple of inches taller than me, and that’s probably only because he’s wearing a bulky beanie. I grin. Good to know I’m not the only dwarf on the local music scene.
“Hi, Kiera. Who is this?” The singer’s eyes are on me, a flirty smile making an appearance.
Our manager looks up from her phone. “Oh. This is Alexandra.”
“And whose little darling are you?” His eyes roam my body without any shame whatsoever.
“Who are you calling little? Or darling?” Even though what courses through my veins is mostly panic instead of blood at this point, if I don’t hold my ground now, from the first encounter, I will never be able to.
The singer’s jaw drops.
“Oooh, burn. Good job, Alexandra.” Marshall comes to stand with me, our shoulders touching. “She’s with us.”
She’s with us.
A wave of goosebumps rushes down my spine. I cling to my badge.
The singer notices and eyes my lanyard. “She’s with Project Viper? In what capacity?”
I squeeze the badge tighter and glance at Kiera. She didn’t offer that information when she introduced me. The manager looks at Marshall. So do I. He gives me a one-shoulder shrug, as though saying it’s up to me how to respond. But if it is up to me, does it mean I’ve finally secured five out of five? I doubt it. His response must be telling me to remember my place.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I mutter.
ACD’s singer smiles, unfazed and all the more handsome for it. “You’ve got some nice temper. I’m Link Hart, by the way. Currently single.”
Marshall snorts. “Nice try.”
I can’t help smiling. “Nice to meet you too.”
It really is. I’ve been with the Vipers for a while, but I haven’t had the chance to meet any of their friends thanks to all the secrecy that surrounds me.
“Link, let’s go!” The girl with the red bangs waves at him.
Link’s expression grows a bit more serious. “Good seeing you, guys. It’s been a while. Rumors had it you either broke up or were working on something big.”
I steal a glance at Kiera, but she’s busy with her phone again.
“We’re fine,” Marshall says. “Good to see you too.”
ACD assemble and take a turn at the soundcheck, and I continue absorbing the scene around me, trying and failing to not think about the fact that Marshall stays by my side. CJ sets my bass on the floor and rests his hands on top of it. A ping of longing singes my insides. That’s my bass.
After ACD say hello, the bubble of space around the Vipers disappears as more and more people come over to fist bump. Kiera finds the venue manager, and we tell him our thanks for having us over. The guy nods in appreciation and gives us yet another copy of today’s schedule, a different one than what the audience will have. Ours has every minute written out: who gets on and off when, how the equipment is distributed, which bands are in which green rooms, etc.
The Vipers go on stage. Kiera keeps talking to the manager’s team, and I watch Zach negotiate something with one of the techs while another person clips transmitters to our guitar belts. Marshall helps a tech set up his microphones.
I’m left to stand all by myself, surrounded by many people yet alone.
What am I doing here? I’ve been working hard to fit in, to not let the Vipers down, but do they need me? Looking up at the dark ceiling, I press my hand to my chest and tell my doubts to beat it. They don’t listen. They don’t have any ears.
Graham does a check of each individual drum, then starts a punchy rhythm. The small crowd rewards him with impressed hoots, and even I, all too familiar with his drumming now, want to cheer for him. CJ, Shane, and Zach take quick turns with their equipment, then pool it together into the intro to Don’t Look Back. Marshall joins in.
Ice cold shivers pierce me. I’ve been listening to Marshall sing for half a year now. But here, hearing his voice carried by massive speakers, I remember the day I first saw him perform. He doesn’t really try right now. No need. It’s just a check. His voice takes me apart, piece by piece, all the same.
I look at my badge. My photo smiles back at me. It’s a good one, back from that photo shoot I had with CJ and Marshall. Underneath is my status.
Alexandra Lermontova
Project Viper
All Areas
Six months I’ve been with Project Viper. I’ve signed piles of paperwork that prove I’m part of the band, at least for another couple of weeks, but this? This is the first official verification that the last six months have been real.
I lift my eyes to the stage again. CJ grooves on my P-Bass, totally in his element. That bass is where it belongs, not in my hands.
Project Viper is complete. They were before I arrived. I’m in the way. I have been this whole time. And I realize now, way too late, that it’s completely unfair of me to ask them to pay the price for my secure future.
I embed my memories with this vision of my Vipers and Marshall’s voice. Zach bops his head in rhythm with the beat and plays with the switches on his effects board. Shane and CJ riff off together. I can’t quite see Graham from behind the drums, and Marshall’s busy making faces at someone in the crowd.
I could leave now and nobody would notice.
Turning around, I yank the badge off my neck and drop it to the floor. Everything blurs in front of me, but it doesn’t matter where I go. Out of here, so toward the set of open doors on the side. I’m a coward. Worse. I’m a failure, bailing out at the last moment. I’ve wasted all of Connor’s effort to bring me here. My parents would be so disappointed, but this is the right thing to do. The Vipers deserve to be free.
I pause in the doors and wipe at my eyes with both hands. When I lower them, Marshall stands in front of me.
Frowning, he hangs my dropped badge over my neck. “Kuda eto ty sobralas’?”
Where do you think you’re going?
I’m so shocked that he’s here, that he’s noticed me leaving at all, that he spoke in Russian to me, I stand speechless as Graham’s question from earlier comes back to me. Do you want to stay? I understand it now. I thought he was asking something too obvious, but I believe he wanted me to give myself permission to claim my spot with the guys and allow myself to think that I belong with them.
Marshall’s focus shifts to something behind me. I turn around to discover the rest of the band coming our way. I know I almost just left, but can I stay?
Wait. That’s wrong. I shouldn’t be begging. I’ve done everything to prove I can work and learn and succeed. I will stay. I’m good enough. But if the guys don’t agree, it’s their right. I’ve done my best.
“Did we sound good?” Zach asks when the rest of the Vipers join us.
“Yeah. So, so good.” My voice is pinched and heavy with emotion, and Marshall gives me a concerned look.
“Alexandra, darling, I know you’re curious, but don’t wander off,” Kiera scolds me gently.
“I’ll make sure she won’t again.” Marshall takes my hand.
Kiera pats his upper arm. “Good.”
I reclaim my hand from Marshall the moment she turns away.
By the time we get back to the green room, Elise, Fiona, Charlie, and Juliette have arrived.
“Alexandra first,” Elise declares without any hellos, an enormous roller brush in her hand. “The rest of you grab the garment bags with your names and start changing. You know the drill.”
Shane and Zach pull out a dressing screen and split the room in two. I strip off my regular clothes and squeeze into the stage outfit. Fiona and Charlie stuff my feet into a pair of tight boots while Elise starts working on my hair.
“Come on, give me a smile or pull a face.” Juliette hovers with her camera like a surveillance drone. Although, it’s mean of me to think about her that way. She’s only doing her job. I manage a limp smile.
After layers of faux lashes, mascara, eyeshadow, and everything else, Elise douses me with generous clouds of hair spray and ushers me out of the chair. “I need to deal with the guys now, but you look perfect.”
Staring at the mirror, I’m struggling to find the perfection she’s talking about. The green leather pants may fit me like a glove, and the white leather jacket over a black tank top may add a dash of sass to my appearance, but all I see is a lonely kid who longs for her parents. Despite the confidence that took over me a little while ago, I struggle to find balance between wanting to conquer the world and crumbling apart.
When the girls remove the dressing screen, Zach lets out a low whistle. “Sweet biscuits, Elise! You turned our already perfect matryoshka into a goddess.”
My cheeks burn. Fortunately, Elise has no time for his praise. “Get in the chair.”
Zach obeys without another word. My attention drifts to Marshall, who stands motionless. Why are his eyes so wide and full of worry?
He gave me my badge back, but he knows I can’t do it, that’s why. No matter how much I’ve improved, I’m no bassist. I’m a singer, and I’ll ruin them. He always knew it. They should have listened to him, and I’m definitely sliding to the crumbling apart side. The walls are low and tight. Suffocating. I grab my headphones and dash past everyone through the door and into the hallway.
“Alexandra!” Marshall calls after me, but I don’t answer.
Outside the dressing room, security patrols the hallway and exchanges brief but excited conversations. Project Viper aren’t the only big name performers hired for the day. Everyone’s anticipation singes what’s left of my nerves. I bolt from the door and round the corner.
Kiera catches up with me and places a hand on my shoulder. “You’re a little more than nervous. Did something happen?”
“Today. It’s today,” I blurt out. The weight of my flaring emotions is threatening to crush me. I need to talk to someone.
“What is today?”
“My parents died a year ago today.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Kiera pulls me into a tight hug and rubs my back. “I am so sorry.”
I swallow a sob. “I’ll be fine. I can do it.”
“You really can. If they could see you now, they would be so proud of you. You’ve grown so much in these past six months.”
Papa would be the first one to agree with her. He believed that a person could do anything they wanted, even in the darkest of times. Mama just believed in me. I can’t prove them wrong. I managed to come this far without them, and I won’t undo it all today, no matter what it costs me.
“I can do it,” I repeat, and this time, I believe it.