Staged (Exodus End 3)

“Hey, knock it off!” Azura yelled angrily, crossing the stage to check on her friend. A stagehand crouched low and hurried to collect the bottle and mop up the potentially slippery situation with a towel.

Roux noticed Iona waving at her and mouthing words she wished she didn’t understand: Talk to them. Oh fuck, she was going to puke. But she did have a working mic. One that hopefully wouldn’t sound like a hard-braking train when she spoke into it.

“S-sorry to keep you waiting. Sometimes a mic and an instrument don’t play nice together.”

But someone should have caught that during sound check. A technician was already unwinding the cord of a new microphone, to switch it out. Roux decided to introduce her band members while they waited. Her voice was surprisingly steady as long as she didn’t look at the crowd directly. Staring over their heads worked best. Imagining them all naked did nothing but nauseate her.

“Playing for you today is Azura on guitar.” Azura played a long, loud note on her guitar and held her bright blue instrument up over her head as the note carried. “And Sage, also on guitar.” Sage had to one-up Azura by playing several notes of one of her fastest guitar solos. “Back on drums is Lily.” Who doubled down on a drum solo of her own. “On bass and lead vocals is Iona.” Iona played several rumbling bass chords. “And I’m Roux, keyboard.” She played a few measures of chopsticks as a joke.

Some of the crowd laughed, but she very clearly heard someone yell, “Get off the stage!”

“Not until we’re finished making your ears ring,” Iona said with a wry grin. Her mic didn’t screech this time. Roux felt like cheering.

Iona continued speaking, every eye in the audience focused on her beautiful face displayed clearly on the big screen and every ear soothed by her hypnotic voice. “This afternoon we’re going to play a mix of our new album and some familiar songs by the legends of rock who inspired us. We are Baroquen.”

Bright lights flickered overhead, signaling the start of their first single, “Starlight.” It was the song that the concertgoers at the gates had been playing while they’d waited to have their forearms tagged with the band’s name, so some of the audience recognized it. Roux played the intro, her keyboard sounding seamless with the two wailing guitars, heavy drums, and throbbing bass. Iona’s voice carried across the festival grounds like a siren’s call. And to Roux’s surprise, even more festivalgoers rushed toward their stage. Steve had been right about the rehearsing and muscle memory. Once they started, the music flowed from her with ease. She hit all her notes, sang all her backup lyrics, and even started to relax enough to dance around a little. Her string-playing sisters were really putting on a show at the front of the stage, and Lily was so into her drums that occasionally her arm would extend high enough into the air that she could be seen.

A circle pit formed near the stage, and to Roux’s utter astonishment, she recognized several of the faces leading the ring of racing men and women waving their Baroquen-marked arms high in the air. Steve, Zach, and Logan worked the crowd into a frenzy from inside the pit. Security was having a hell of a time trying to keep order, but it didn’t seem like the rock stars in the crowd minded the jostling. Roux prayed none of them got hurt. At least Jack hadn’t joined in the chaos. What were those guys thinking? God, she loved them all for doing it.

They played Heart’s “Barracuda” next, which had the crowd singing along, followed by two of Baroquen’s heavier songs, “Final Stand” and “Cross the Line,” before playing Rush’s “YYZ,” one of Roux’s all-time favorite instrumental pieces. They slowed their frantic pace for their ballad “Fuck You, My Love,” which Lily had written about Jack several years before. Roux sang more in that song than any other.

Fuck you, for breaking my heart. Fuck you, for tearing me apart. Fuck me and take away my pain. Fuck you, you drive me insane.

The crowd caught on to the “fuck you” part of the song quickly and were singing along at the top of their lungs, their cellphones lit up and swaying above their heads even though it was the middle of the afternoon and the effect wasn’t as breathtaking as it would have been as thousands of glimmering lights at night.

Roux searched the crowd for Steve, knowing this was his favorite Baroquen song—apparently because she sang so much of it, not because one of his favorite words was repeated so often. She located him easily, as if her eyes were primed to focus only on him. He had one arm looped around Zach’s neck, and a beer dangling from his hand, but he was staring at her as if he’d been blind his entire life and had just been gifted with vision. She put a little extra soul into her voice just for him, and he lifted his glass of beer toward her before nearly strangling Zach as he drew it to his mouth for a drink.

A flash went off near him, temporarily drawing her attention from the man she’d never grow tired of staring at, and her heart thudded as she recognized Tamara. Fucking hell. What was she doing in the crowd? And why was she taking pictures of Steve? He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, but Roux could only guess how Tamara would twist a picture of Steve and Zach so close together into something perverse. Roux supposed the two men were used to that kind of fabrication. The lies the tabloids spread didn’t make them keep their distance from each other. Roux thought it was nice that a man was comfortable enough in his sexuality to be affectionate with a gay friend. And Zach never showed the least bit of sexual interest in Steve as far as she could tell, so that was refreshing as well. She hated that the public tried to twist their friendship into something it wasn’t and never had been.

Tamara followed Steve’s gaze to the stage, and maybe she recognized the obvious adoration for what it was, because she snapped several pictures of Roux before slinking off into the crowd.

Just as Zach had predicted, their performance ended before it had even settled into Roux’s mind that it was happening. They performed Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody” as their encore, which sent the audience into a rapturous round of karaoke, and then it was over.

Roux took her bows, holding Azura’s hand at the end of her line of sisters. She’d never been prouder to be considered one of them. They were hugging each other and laughing and crying in a big huddle as they shuffled sideways off the stage. When they had almost reached the wings, Raven launched herself onto their ecstatic mass of joy and relief. She was crying so hard, she was gasping.

And when she showed them why, they waved at the rest of their sisters and Mama Ramona, who’d attended the show via the FaceTime app on Raven’s phone.

“You were spectacular!” Mama said, clutching her hands together tightly in front of her chest. “I’m so proud of you all. So proud.” She wiped at her tears. “I knew they would love you. My girls, all so special. So unique. So beautiful. So talented. So, so talented.”

She’d been telling each of them that from the moment they entered her house, until every one of her girls believed it of themselves and of each other. The woman was a rare treasure, a born mother, a true mentor. Roux was so lucky to have been found and rescued by her patchwork family.

“We love you, Mama!” Iona shouted, waving just as Kyle peeled her away from the group to kiss her passionately right there in front of everyone. Iona went limp and then threw her arms around him to kiss him back with palpable hunger.

Her five sisters exchanged looks of shock—Iona and Kyle kept their relationship under very tight wraps—and then squealed excitedly before crushing the typically private couple in a group hug. The only thing that could possibly make the moment more special was if Steve were there to share it with Roux.

A shadow settled behind her shoulder, and she knew her wish had been granted. She turned and reached for him. He was so gorgeous, smiling at her with love and pride in his expression. But the sneering face of Tamara, who was standing directly behind him, shattered Roux’s moment. She lifted her knuckles and fist bumped the love of her life, hoping he recognized how much it meant to her that he was there. Roux glanced pointedly to Steve’s left, and he turned his head.

Surprisingly, it was Reagan who went off on Tamara. “I am fucking sick of you showing up and ruining everyone’s good time.”

Tamara grinned and waved her press pass as if it were God’s key to the universe.

“Haven’t you caused enough problems for this band?”

“Don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she bothers you,” Steve said, but he didn’t reach for Roux, and she knew he would have if Tamara hadn’t been there. “She’s a nonentity. Let her take her pictures and fabricate her lies.”

“Is your own life so boring that you have to make up shit about other people?” Reagan asked.

“Don’t talk to the ghost, Reagan,” Steve said. “Maybe it will go away.”

“You wish,” Tamara said. “My life’s mission is to make your life as miserable as you’ve made mine, Steve Aimes.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” he said.

“You know exactly what I’m fucking talking about. And how did you manage to snag the keyboardist of Baroquen as your ‘assistant’?” She finger-quoted assistant. “Or is she fucking her way to the top?”

Roux was too stunned to respond. Steve looked puzzled. “My assistant?”

“That’s who Toni said she was this morning at breakfast.”

“Are you talking about Katie?” Steve said.

Azura and Raven burst out laughing. “She thinks you’re Katie!” Azura yelled at Roux, slapping her hard on the back and drawing her out of her stunned silence. “Like you and that dork have anything in common.”

Dork?

“That’s rich,” Raven said. “I can’t wait to tell Katie that someone thinks she looks like you.”

“She wishes,” Roux said, rounding up a bit of attitude, but feeling like a transparent moron.

“I can’t stand this woman,” Steve said, pointing at Roux.

“I saw the way you were looking at her onstage,” Tamara spat at him. “I’m not blind.”

“Well, I must admit I think she’s hot.”

“Even I think she’s hot,” Zach blurted.