Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

I hadn’t made it yet. Hadn’t figured out a way to hold on to what I was grasping for with everything I had. But I was closer than I’d ever been.

“How the hell are you doing tonight, LA?” I called out, and they screamed back at me, pressing closer. I leaned forward, my shirt gaping precariously, giving the front row a show that made them slap their hands on the stage. “You look pretty damn fine, I’ll tell you that. It’s a pleasure to be here. A real iconic place, isn’t it? An experience that can’t be duplicated, yeah? And I’m a new guy on the scene, but I want to do that for you all too. Give you something you’ve never ever had before.” I licked my lips, letting my attention slide along every woman in the front and then drift back. “You think you’re ready? I’m about to make you all very glad you’re alive.”

As they hooted and hollered, I looked behind me and snapped my fingers, counting off as the band kicked into gear on our first cover of the night, “Wild Thoughts.”

I grabbed hold of the microphone, attacking the song with the same fire I’d watched countless others do on this very stage. Except I went to another level. I grinded against the mic, holding it so close to my mouth that my vocals took on a huskier, raspier quality. When I got to the part about seeing me naked, the roar was deafening. I couldn’t help smiling as I sang, tossing a glance over my shoulder at the guitarist nearest my side. He grinned, but not at me. He was looking at the crowd. Soaking up their admiration like it was all for him.

Even at this most amazing moment, I had no one to share it with. No band to joke around with who actually liked me and saw me as anything more than a pay stub, and a fairly measly one at that.

Not now. Nothing else matters but the music. You’ve sacrificed everything to get here. Don’t waste it.

I didn’t let myself think about the other musicians or whether Sabrina liked what she was seeing or whether Zoe even remembered me any longer. I focused on the crowd, getting high on their attention like the most potent of drugs.

The more they demanded, the more I offered. The rest of the buttons on my shirt came undone, except for the bottom two. At one point, I grabbed hold of the button on my denims and popped that too, lifting my arms as I sang “Not Backing Down” so that the pants gapped just enough to elicit insanity near the front. Cameras never stopped flashing. I couldn’t even imagine the amount of clips that would be on YouTube tonight. And I worked it, bracing a foot on an amp and leaning backward as I belted out the chorus to the song that was becoming my anthem.

You might hate me.

Might say I did it all for the wrong reasons.

But remember my name.

Because you’ll hear it again.

Oh, all over again.

You’ll chant my name.

At a break between songs, I guzzled water and yanked out the monitor in my ear. My head was buzzing and sweat was dripping down my back. I wanted to lose the shirt. Lose the fucking restrictive pants too.

Was this why my brother had developed a penchant for getting the next thing to naked onstage? I’d always assumed it was sheer grandstanding.

Not that I minded the shrieks and flung panties just a few more inches of my abs garnered. If I pulled down my zipper, just enough to—

I grinned at myself and wished I’d swapped the water for vodka. Their screams were addictive. I was riding high on them, desperate to make them give me more. To lose themselves in the concert so that their shitty jobs didn’t matter and tomorrow would never come.

It was the same reason I was doing this show. Living in the minute and staving off the inevitable.

When I’d be alone in my low-rent motel room after, pink neon from the sign outside glowing over the bed, getting myself drunk so I didn’t realize I was fucking alone.

So fucking alone.

I turned back to the audience and wiped my hand slowly over my mouth. But I wasn’t alone right now.

“Who’s ready for more?”

Shouts and raised fists answered me.

“We’re not going home tonight, are we? We’re keeping this party going. And we’re just getting started, yeah? Who knows ‘Hole Hearted’ by Extreme?”

The guitarist groaned. It was at the very bottom of the audible list, the song we’d practiced least other than the new addition, “For You.” But it had a party vibe and I wanted to keep the mood high.

Fuck him. Fuck the whole entire band. They were probably waiting for a chance to take off like Deuce had. I was doing this my way.

The audience was a half-and-half split. Maybe less than half and half. They still jumped and stomped their appreciation as I looped my guitar strap over my head and strummed into the song. My fingers were far too sore from all my nights of playing until nearly the pink light of dawn streamed across the sky, but I didn’t allow myself to feel the pain.

This show was going to be my finest hour. If it wasn’t, I was going to die trying.

By the end of the night, my jeans were a deep breath away from indecency. When I rasped the lyrics to Zoe’s song, I turned my head and swore I saw her in the crowd. Striking blond hair, huge eyes. Sunshine lived inside her but she was afraid to let it out. To put her faith in someone not to take that light and turn it back against her.