Staged (Exodus End 3)

“I wasn’t following you!” she shouted.

“Then you were following Zach.”

“No, I was just going in the same direction you are.”

Seeing as he’d been wandering aimlessly, that seemed unlikely. “I want to talk to you for a few minutes,” he said. “In private.”

She licked her lips. “If this is about last night . . .”

He had no idea what she was referring to. “What about it?”

Tamara bit her lip. “You were pretty drunk.”

He supposed that had been obvious even before he’d passed out, and she’d seen him just before he’d returned to his room. “This isn’t about last night,” he said. Why would it be?

“It isn’t?” She met his eyes. “Is it about your new girlfriend?”

Not directly, but . . . “Did Sam tell you her name?”

She lowered her gaze and nodded. “He wants me to write a story about the two of you.”

Steve threw his hands in the air. “Of course he does. What other stories does he want you to write?”

“I just do what he tells me.”

“But why?” He was shouting, he realized, but couldn’t help himself. “Why do you do what he tells you?”

She glanced around as if worried someone would overhear. “I have to go.” She darted around the fans surrounding a group of musicians making their way either to or from a stage. He started after her, but was rudely poked in the shoulder by an angry-looking man.

“I came all the way from Dublin to see Twisted Element, you gobshite! Where d’you get off sendin’ ’em packin’, ay?”

“Um . . .” He wasn’t sure what a gobshite was, but he knew a pissed-off, drunk Irishman when he saw one. Luckily, Zach hurried over.

“You let her get away,” Zach said to Steve.

“You still speakin’ to this geebag, Zachary Mercier?” the disgruntled fan spat in Zach’s direction. “Are you bleedin’ daft?

Zach scowled at the Twisted Element defender. Maybe Zach knew what a geebag was. Steve had no clue, but he was pretty sure it was an insult.

“He came all the way from Dublin to see Twisted Element,” Steve explained.

“Is that right?” Zach said, brightening at once and wrapping an arm around the fan’s shoulders. The man immediately went soft, his hostility toward Steve apparently forgotten. “Let’s go grab a drink with my friend here.” Zach jerked a thumb in Steve’s direction. “Unless you have something better to do.”

“Something better to do than drink?” Zach’s fan broke into obnoxious peals of laughter. “With you?” He doubled over and slapped his knee.

Steve thought the guy might pass out, either from lack of air or because he was extremely drunk.

“Nah, ain’t got a thing pressin’ at the moment.”

Once Steve was surrounded by booze, old friends, and a crowd of drunks in full revelry, it was a bit too easy to fall into old habits. He stayed away from the fucking whiskey, though, and stuck to beer all night. By the time Sinners took the stage, he’d forgotten why he’d sworn off alcohol in the first place. It sure made it easier to pass the time when he had nothing better to do than party. Especially since he had no desire to engage in his favorite pastime—fucking—unless Roux showed up, but he hadn’t seen her since he’d left her at the tent.

Zach’s fanboy, who was still hanging with them, patted Steve on the chest as they headed for the main stage to watch Sinners. “You’re not the wanker I thought you were.”

“Uh . . . thanks?”

“I’ll be spreading the word that it’s that other band—the one with the chicks—that’s responsible for getting Twisted canned.”

Steve cringed. That would be worse than laying the blame on him. Exodus End could weather the upset, but he wasn’t sure if Baroquen could.

“Actually, it’s not their fault at all.”

“It was the tour manager,” Zach said. “He made the decision on his own. Didn’t consult anyone.”

“You should fire that feckin’ idiot!”

“Hell yeah, we should,” Steve said, lifting his near empty glass of beer and downing its contents. As was the norm, his empty glass was immediately replaced with a full one courtesy of the next dude who wanted to buy him a beer. The fans loved that he’d hung around with them all evening instead of hiding out with the rest of the bands in areas inaccessible to them. If Steve had had a show tonight, he would have kept his distance, but since he didn’t have to perform until the next night, he was just a music fan—who everyone happened to know by name—like the rest of them. There were always a couple of Exodus End’s security team around when he did this kind of thing, but they seldom had to intervene. These were his people, and he didn’t get to be around them as one of them very often these days. He missed being a part of the group.

“Are you going to watch the show from the pit or backstage?” Zach asked, his own perpetually refilled beer in one hand.

“Do you think we can make it to the pit?” Steve said, eyeing the enormous crowd already assembled before the main stage. The fans that were in the pit in front of the stage had probably gotten there several hours before the show began, not halfway through the first song. Sinners looked like ants on a miniature stage from where he and Zach stood. Still, the pyrotechnics were awe-inspiring, and as usual, the band sounded amazing. They had a great front of house sound board operator who rivaled Exodus End’s renowned Mad Dog. Their drummer, Eric Sticks, had married her, if Steve remembered correctly. His brain wasn’t working so well this far into drink.

“I’ll get you to the pit!” shouted a nearby fan who happened to be built like a linebacker.

Surprisingly, the man didn’t barrel through the crowd like he was carrying a Steve Aimes football to the end zone. He merely tapped people on the shoulder and introduced Steve and Zach, which made the exuberant and friendly fans insist that they move in front of them after claiming a handshake or a hug or a slap on the back. Eventually the crowd was crammed together too tightly to offer them the space to move forward. They were close enough now that Steve could make out which miniature member of Sinners was which. Sed Lionheart had the crowd jumping up and down to the beat of their rock anthem “Twisted.”

“Do you think they wrote this song about you?” Steve shouted at Zach as they jumped in unison with the people around them.

Zach laughed. “They don’t even know who I am.”

“You’re being modest. Let’s get closer.”

They both knew there was only one way to get closer and that was by surfing over the crowd rather than moving forward through it.

Their linebacker-esque companion agreed to give Steve a boost up, and soon he was being passed hand over hand above the crowd. He hadn’t crowd-surfed for ages and was truly having the time of his life. He caught sight of Zach moving over the crowd near him. The song ended, and he could hear Sed talking to the audience.

“It seems there’s a surplus of drummers in the crowd tonight,” he said.

A camera captured the moment Steve thrust his arm—topped by a devil-horns fist—into the air and displayed it on the huge screen. The crowd screamed in approval. Steve grinned when he noticed how many of the arms waving on the screen had Baroquen written across them—his arm included. They showed Zach onscreen next; he got an equally loud shout of approval from the crowd, and more matching Baroquen forearms waved when Zach thrust his fist into the air.

“What are you guys doing down in the pit?” Sed shouted into his microphone.

“Everybody’s gone surfing, surfing U-effing-K.” Trey sang into his mic as if it were a Beach Boys song.

“I wonder if we can keep those two surfing for the entire next song,” Sed said. “What do you say, Download? Are you up to the challenge?”

The crowd screamed its answer, and Steve’s body suddenly changed trajectory. Instead of being passed toward the stage, he was now being passed perpendicular to it.

“Yes!” he shouted, thrusting his devil ho

rns into the air again.

Lights flickered from the stage, signaling the beginning of “Shattered,” a crowd favorite. The music was electrifying. Steve and Zach high-fived each other when they passed near enough atop the crowd to touch. Even Brian Sinclair got into the spirit of their extended surf, tripling the length of his guitar solo. His fingers must be on fucking fire, Steve thought as the crowd around and beneath him screamed in excitement.

When the song ended, Steve was passed directly toward the barrier. Several security guards assisted him to his feet in front of the stage. Several yards away, Zach was also being pulled to safety.