unREASONable by Arya Matthews
Track 37
Marshall
“My job is done.” Elise rolls up her tools. She gives Shane a quick kiss, says to Graham, “You got this,” and heads for the door. Our team leaves, and Alexandra returns.
Kiera peeks in. “You have fifteen minutes. Do your thing.”
She closes the door, and silence takes hold of us.
I breathe in and out and work on relaxing my muscles. Once I’m out of this room, I’ll be someone else. I’ll be what the crowd demands me to be, putting the real me away for a short while. I love making music, but I love this part too.
CJ, Shane, and Graham do push-ups. Neither CJ nor Shane need any time to put their minds together, but they do their best to distract Graham from freaking out.
Zach sits next to me, his back to the room, arms crossed on his chest, eyes closed. Sometimes he meditates, sometimes he prays. I don’t know what it is this time. When I release a somewhat loud breath, he looks at me, then over his shoulder at pacing Alexandra, then at me again. Zach doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are pleading. I suspect he’s concerned about the way things are between me and Alexandra and whether I’m still set on getting rid of her.
I squeeze his shoulder. “It’ll be great. Don’t worry.”
Will it? Alexandra tossed her badge and walked away. I was playing with the mic when I realized I couldn’t see her near Kiera anymore. In that moment, fear-fueled adrenaline surging through my chest, it felt as if someone had turned my head to show me Alexandra, the back of her hoodie. I saw her approaching the doors, and, cutting off mid-verse, slid down the ramp to the stage and ran after her.
I was sure she wanted to stay, but does she? With the band? Yes. With me? I don’t want to even think about the answer to that.
To the rest of the band I say, “Are we ready?”
They nod. Ten minutes until we’re expected on the stage. It’s almost showtime, baby, but one more thing remains to be done.
We stand in a circle, familiar with the ritual, but Alexandra takes a moment to catch on and join us. She eyes us with a great deal of doubt.
CJ must notice it as well since he explains, “There’s this little thing we say every time before we go on stage. It’s nothing special. We just go clockwise and name our strengths. Mine is inspiration.”
Shane’s next. “Freedom.” As in freedom to choose his own path.
My turn. “Fearlessness.” I’ve always said this, and usually that is my strength, but today it feels tainted, untrue. I haven’t been fearless in the past six months. I’ve been anything but.
Zach cuts my inner scolding short. “Loyalty.”
“Inner strength,” Graham says and looks at Alexandra.
She fidgets with the zipper on her jacket. “Um…” Her mouth opens and closes a couple of times, and I know exactly how impossible it feels to have to describe yourself, positively, in one word.
“Courage,” I offer.
There’s no better term to describe her. She’s left her home to meet a bunch of strangers and to accomplish wild things, all while a certain someone made her life impossible. She stayed no matter what.
“That’s definitely it,” CJ agrees.
Reluctantly, she nods.
The ritual ends with a double clap on the back to the Viper next to us, then we’re out the door.
Alexandra pushes her headphones back onto her ears. I walk behind her and watch her gait grow steadier and less tense as she hums. It’s only at the edge of the stage that Alexandra surrenders her headphones to a stagehand. She clenches and unclenches her fists, stuffs and unstuffs them into her jacket pockets. Her skin is paler than usual, maybe due to the lighting. I sure hope she won’t faint.
When she continues clenching her fingers, I take her hand. “You’ll do fine. You practiced, so you got this. Right?”
I hope Alexandra will glare at me and snap back as in, “Right! I got this. Get lost. This band is mine now.” She does nothing of the sort. She yanks her hand out of mine and walks on robotic legs onto the stage when the crew gives us the green light.
The crowd roars, and Alexandra jumps and presses a hand to her chest. I remember my first time in front of an ocean of people the likes of which shimmers around the stage. I couldn’t believe so many would come to listen to us. I get the jitters even now, but I’m used to it as well. It’s hard to describe.
“Ready to make some noise?” I shout through my mic, eliciting a new wave of cheers and squeals. “Good! Let’s go!”
I sing, Zach and Graham do their thing, CJ and Shane tear the air on the guitars and stay close to Alexandra as much as they can. CJ throws her encouraging smiles, and whenever she looks at me, which doesn’t happen that often, I do the same. Eventually, Alexandra loosens up and starts jiving with her bass, dancing along with her sidekicks. We sound fantastic. Project Viper at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.
During a particularly energetic chorus, I lean into Alexandra’s microphone. It’s a habit from when CJ had a more active backup part. Alexandra shoots me a concerned look, but, to her credit, continues playing and singing with me.
This is where my heart rips off its chain and curses me to the pits of all misery for being the idiot that I’ve been. She’s got me with those blue eyes. I see her feelings—excitement from the gig (no one can help it once it gets going), apprehension toward me, and pain I’m probably to thank for. All I can do is put all of my love for her into my singing.
Alexandra pulls away the first chance she gets and migrates to CJ’s side. I suck in a quick, deep breath for the next line and allow the disappointment to settle in. I deserve it, but I resolve to fight. I’ll tell CJ the truth. I’ll tell her that I love her. And whatever follows, I’ll deal with it one way or another like a grown man even if I’m far from being one.
The festival is a casual affair for a bunch of bands to cheer up the masses in the middle of a dreary spring. Since it’s only meant to last one day, our set list is short, so we play six of our old songs, then it’s time for Devastation, Free of Charge. But first, I get to do some introductions.
“As you can see, we’re here tonight with an updated cast.” I laugh at my attempt at a joke, and the crowd roars again.
Feeling like I’m stepping on shards of glass, I walk over to Alexandra. She has one hand wrapped around the neck of her bass, silencing the strings, and taps on the red body with the fingers of the other. We never got her an electric short scale bass. I’ll fix that as soon as I can.
Back to reality. I smile at our petite but tough bassist. Here goes. “Please give some love to Alexandra Lermontova, the newest Viper.”
Zach sputters ginger ale all over his keyboard. The audience goes wild. The Label will kill me for this. The guys will too. Nothing’s been settled, no paperwork signed, but Alexandra’s become one of us, and I won’t let her go.
Alexandra stares at me with absolute terror in her eyes.
I wink at her. “Show them what you got.”
She bites her lower lip and plays an upbeat riff, eliciting more cheers and claps. Graham drums along, always knowing how to support. It probably helps that Alexandra leads him into our next song.
I press my fingertip to my earpiece, switching the microphone to a dedicated channel that only the band and the tech crew can hear.
“Alexandra and Graham, loop that intro a few more times. CJ, give me your guitar.”
He blinks and touches his earpiece. “What?”
It’s my song, and best friend or not, CJ can’t have it. Not this time.
I brace myself and look him straight in the eye. “I’ll sing it.”
CJ’s face splits into the most intolerable grin. He transfers the equipment to me then performs a similar exchange with Alexandra, who looks increasingly perplexed.
“Sing it out,” I tell her. “However you like. It’s all yours. I’ll do the backup.”
Her face takes on a tortured expression. “Why?”
In the background, Shane and CJ have started adding flourishes to the intro. I’ve picked the worst of times to explain this to her. The venue manager will chew me out later for the delay, but no backing out now.
“I wrote this song for you. We should’ve just practiced it with you as the lead the whole time.”
Alexandra nails me with the angriest look I’ve ever seen from her. When I give her the lead mic, she rips it out of my hands and kicks me in the foot.
I wait for Graham to drum to the end of the intro and begin with the lead guitar part properly, now a little nervous I’m going to screw it up since I haven’t practiced it much—I never planned on playing the guitar parts myself.
Alexandra starts out quiet, her voice haunting and raw. With every line, her volume grows, her emotions spilling out in earnest. At first she doesn’t move much, but as the first chorus hits, she sways and dances, and dwarfs me with her vocals. I finally understand, to my shame and awe, that she truly knew what she was talking about that one time she accused me of crummy singing. Her voice flows like a river of fire and consumes everything, and I almost forget to sing my part.